


Uneasy Lies the Head

by TearoomSaloon



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bodyguard Ben Solo, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Empress Rey (Star Wars), F/M, Friends to Lovers, I'm trying not to give too much away in the tags, Kronk Voice: oh yeah it's all coming together, Mutual Pining, Rey is a Palpatine (Star Wars), Slow Burn, Soulmates, Unresolved Romantic Tension, are you ready to be frustrated by this slow burn? because I am, but there was only one bed, but we're diverging at the beginning of the skywalker saga, inside you will find FLAGRANT ABUSE of this trope, it's all soft stuff in the lead up, this has been beta'd!! holy shit!!!!, you are going to be waiting to find out more about that excerpt scene for a while
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:41:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 24,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28463292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TearoomSaloon/pseuds/TearoomSaloon
Summary: Rey has been heir apparent to the Galactic Empire since birth. Which entails a looming arranged marriage, meticulous politics, and the constant shadow of her Hand, the Skywalker heir. Whom she’s...developing pesky feelings for. Blind to the realities of the turbulent world beyond the palace walls, the charade of normality comes to a splintering, searing end not long after her eighteenth birthday. In, of course, the worst way possible.Just her luck, really.Excerpt:She washed the blood off her nose and mouth with mechanical familiarity. Practiced certainty. This wasn't the first time, nor would it be the last."I can't follow you down if you keep descending like this."She met his eyes in the mirror, his image swimming like ripples on a cold glass pond. "You'd stop loving me, you mean."He was silent a moment as he leaned against the threshold, the red of his lips gnawed between white teeth. "I don't know."
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 57
Kudos: 73





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For [czechia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/czechia), my beta, and perhaps my oldest friend in the land of internet fandoms. This would not be fit for consumption without her help.  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! This has been under wraps for a few weeks while my beta and I have been working out narrative kinks and doing too damn many rounds of editing. There's another 16k already written and edited (!!!!) and it's getting.........long. There's a lot. It's about 90% plotted out in detail, just the cracks remain to be filled.
> 
> This is the only chapter where they're kids.

Patience eroded like a limestone gully, Leia sighed and hunched over her desk. Her fingers made a path of destruction up her scalp, once-immaculate braids pulled to pieces, angel-thin hairs standing on static ends. The last sixteen years of endless frustration sat pouting across her ocean of work, a black look making stormy his dark eyes.

Her son made an indignant sound, his complaint pulling her from her thoughts. "Can't you give them an excuse?"

"No, I can't."

"Why not?"

"We've been over this; it's a birthright. When a Skywalker heir turns sixteen, they begin training to become the next Hand. I don't have the kind of power to overrule that.”

"You could ask though, you know, monarch to monarch."

"If I need to explain the difference in authority between the ruler of a planetary federation and the emperor of the galactic systems, I am going to pull you out of that school; you're clearly not learning anything. Or not paying attention."

_ "Mom." _ It was a drawn out whine, coupled with her signature eye roll and his father's trademark slouch. Thick wavy hair fell across his brow and he raked it back with teenage theatrics. " _ You _ didn't have to go even though you’re a Skywalker."

"That's because my brother did." 

She and Luke had drawn straws. Leia had been the more qualified twin at the time: expert shot, more attuned with the Force, quick with a blade. It had been difficult to picture her gentler, idealistic brother serving as the Emperor's Hand, a position then held by their temperamental and deadly father. Now, she couldn't imagine Luke pouring over political nonsense and funding requests. Or herself darting about doing diplomatic dirty work. If their roles had been reversed, she'd be visiting her brother and his family for holidays, herself childless. Maybe she'd have preferred that to her always-elsewhere husband and her always-angry son.

Well, a girl could dream.

"So if Uncle Luke hadn’t, you'd have gone instead?"

"Yes, and then I'd have never met your father and you wouldn't exist, so be thankful. Besides, going is the better alternative; I'll put you to work if you stay."

"This family is so lame. Why did Dad even marry into it?"

"Go ask him."

"Kid, if you're going to sing me a sob story, the least you can do is help instead of hanging around like a wet towel. No, not that—the other wrench—thank you."

"Were you even listening to me?"

No. All of Ben's whining jumbled together when riled up, sentences running into each other and petty annoyances whizzing about like a far-flung bucket of ping-pong balls. Puberty was not being kind with its constant mood swings and teenage angst.  _ He _ certainly hadn't been such a pain in the ass at sixteen; this was definitely from Leia's side of the family. Han had once overheard his wife lamenting to her brother about 'the Skywalker whining gene' and was grateful he had one kid, not two.

"Dad?"

"Yep, I was. Did you talk to your mother?"

"You weren’t! Gods, I  _ just _ spoke to her!"

Han leaned against the wall next to the open control panel. "Most boys your age would be jumping at the chance to get away from their parents and go on daring adventures across the galaxy. I know I was."

"There won’t be any adventures because the princess won’t be going anywhere. I'll be stuck training with Uncle Luke or doing menial chores for ten billion years."

"Princesses go on dangerous missions too, you know."

"She's twelve." Oh. "I'm going to be a glorified babysitter and die of sheer boredom. Can't I come with you to Chandrila instead? I’ve been working on my navigation since the last time—"

"No. Your mother would skin us both and turn us into area rugs."

With an exasperated huff, Ben slid down to the floor. "It's just—…I'm not going to see my friends for ages. They’ll get to pick careers and I'll just be, you know, dealing with some spoiled toddler."

Han folded his grease-stained hands over his mouth and suppressed a groan. "Two things. One, twelve year olds aren't toddlers, nor do they stay twelve forever. And two, you realize this position you're inheriting is one of the highest ranking in the empire, right? You're carrying on like we're shipping you off to be a moisture farmer."

He grumbled. "What if I wanted to be a moisture farmer?"

"Listen, if it really sucks, and you  _ really _ can't stand it, we'll see what we can do, okay? Please give it a try first."

"Why should I?"

"Because we're your parents, we'll be disappointed, and it's your birthright." And because the last thing he needed was another angry holocall with his father-in-law about how he was raising his son. The Skywalker patriarch still hated his guts for the heinous, unforgivable crime of marrying his daughter and Han wanted as little drama as possible.

He watched as Ben contemplated his options, a tempestuous mood visible on his scrunched up face. "You have to promise me you'll try and bring me home if it makes me want to die."

Han snorted. "You say that about having to get out of bed on the weekends."

“Am I  _ not _ allowed to sleep in? I'm not going to get any taller if you and Mom keep dragging me out of bed so early.”

"Noon isn't early; you’d grow more if you went to sleep on time instead of staying up playing games and talking to that girl."

Color shot to his face. "Don't tell Mom about that." 

"I wouldn't dare. And I promise we'll bring you home if it's really terrible."

  
  


This was going to be glorified babysitting. One week in and Ben was ready to stick his head in a reactor and end it all. Or throw himself off the Senate building. Or purposefully land on his saber. Or—

"I guess the good news is the crown princess doesn't want to meet you either, so that's not happening soon." Luke's pace was hard to keep up with. Ben was nearly his height but had to trot to keep stride with his constant speed walking.

"Why is that good news?"

"You don't want to deal with her, she doesn't want to deal with you. Win-win. For now, anyway; you'll have to work together at some point. A word of advice from the incumbent Hand to my replacement: cherish the fact that she's too young to send you off to enforce her will or lean on you for your political and moral opinions. Can't say either of those are my favorite parts of the job."

"I thought we were in an era of relative peace?"

Luke gave him a sideways glance. "How do you think it stays that way?"

Ben lowered his voice. "Wait, have you, like,  _ killed _ people?"

"Your grandfather would be better to explain that part of the role, maybe you should ask him."

"No thanks, he scares the shit out of me." 

"Dad's not  _ scary _ , just poor-tempered and protective.” Ben thought he saw Luke  _ smile _ . “Did Leia tell you about the time he almost took a guy's head off when she got lost as a kid?"

"No."

"Used to be prime holiday dinner material. He tells it better than I do."

"I'll have to ask next time I see him," Ben said as he made a mental note not to bring that up, ever.

Luke pushed open the door to the lower training grounds. "I say we work on more parrying drills today, what do you think?"

"I think my shoulders are still sore from yesterday."

"Soreness builds character, come along."

It was a month of rigorous Force exercises and training drills before he met his future charge. In typical Luke fashion, he’d neglected to mention something devastatingly important—like meeting the goddamn princess—until the last possible second. His wicked smile across the breakfast table curdled Ben's blood where he sat. With a mischievous look in his eyes, Luke deposited him at the door to her playroom and disappeared, leaving him alone to fend off the terror beyond the old stone threshold.

The door yanked open into a high-windowed drawing room when he gave a half-hearted knock. Toys of all kinds filled cubby holes that stretched along two walls. Puzzles, figurines, mock-up swords, replica navy ships—it was impossible to catalogue everything. The space organized and neatly labeled, he had a mind to think the tidiness was maintained by a droid or four. In shock from the sheer amount of  _ stuff, _ he'd barely noticed the small princess glowering at him from halfway across the room, guards on the walls nowhere near the entryway. Was it an automated door? Or—

She flipped a long, braided coil of chestnut hair over her shoulder. "Come in or I'll change my mind and lock you out."

"Are you doing that?"

"Doing what?"

Ben pointed at the levitating stuffed animals. “That?”

She frowned and a green thing with six legs pelted him in the head. "Of course I'm doing that. I'm a Palpatine."

"You say that like it's an explanation."

"Dad says it is." The door clicked closed behind him as he moved to the middle of the room. "Can't you do that? Or did your common blood ruin it?"

"Did your dad say that too?"

She sniffed. “Might have."

"I'm not _common_. And not that it matters," it did, "but I'm a prince."

"Yeah, a prince of a tiny rock belt with a spice runner for a dad."

Ben bit back a sharp insult unfit to utter in front of a kid. "Do you even know what spice is?"

She was at a loss without a pre-recorded line. The creases between her brows deepened in concentration. "It goes in food?"

He snorted. "If you want to get sky-high, sure.”

The haunting of a smile quirked her lips before they were drawn into another scowl. "Your name is dumb."

Her dad must have really hated him. "Random dunk but okay."

"If you're to be my bodyguard—which I don't want—you can't walk around with some silly name like Solo. Master Solo sounds dumb. Master of solo  _ what?" _

"If it makes you feel any better, princess, I don't want to be your bodyguard either."

"Don't call me princess. I'm not going to be a princess when I grow up." Her eyes glittered as she beckoned him down to whisper in his ear. "I'm going to be a space pirate. Your dad is a space pirate, isn't he?"

"He hasn't been for years," he whispered back.

"Can I meet him?"

"Maybe I can introduce you if you stop insulting me."

"Deal, but," she glanced towards where her guards stood at attention around the perimeter. "Dad doesn't like you, so I have to be mean in front of him."

"It might take a while."

"I can be patient."

She could not, actually. The princess whined incessantly and asked questions whenever Ben was ordered to drop by, getting under his skin, tugging on his coat, his sleeves, and his hair. Her moods were fickle and capricious, leaving him with frequent whiplash from her erratic oscillation between sweetly-worded requests and demanding ultimatums.

"You're one to talk," she snapped back when called out. "All you do is mope or look smug."

"I do  _ not _ mope."

She twisted her face into a grimace, voice low and mocking. "I'm Ben Solo, I hate fun and going to new places and learning cool lightsaber tricks. I want to go home so I can complain to my mom and see my girlfriend—"

He slapped his hand over her mouth in a knee jerk reaction, keenly aware Luke was somewhere nearby. She froze, momentarily stunned, and he crouched down to her eye level. His voice was even but threatening a tempest. "I have never, not once, mentioned her to you, or near you. How do you  _ know _ about that?—Hey, gross! Don't lick me when I'm interrogating you!"

She made a show of acting disgusted when he yanked back, wiping her mouth with her shirt cuffs. "I see her name in your head a lot. Figure if you think about her that much you're boyfriend and girlfriend, right?"

"We're not—she's not my girlfriend. I just—" Why was he admitting this to a twelve year old? "I like her, but I've never asked if she likes me back. And now I'm here for eternity so there's no point anyway."

"But there's always a point to love—the happy ending, duh. Or all my holomovies are lying to me."

Ben stared at her for a long moment, sighed, and stood up.  _ Kids. _ "They're lying to you. Not everyone gets a happy ending and not everyone falls in love. Besides that, love is an important, serious emotion that shouldn’t be thrown around. That's not how I feel about her, I don't think."

"Well  _ I _ love a lot of people and things. I think you'd frown less if you did, too."

"Tell me if you still feel that way when you've got your first crush."

He found Luke holed up in his office later, datapads scattered across the desk, a pile of outgoing papers threatening to spill out of their tray. He made the same frustrated face as Mom when reading a bullshit datamail or preposterous proposal. He raised his eyebrow the same way, too.

"You never told me she's a telepath."

"I must have forgotten to mention. She got you, didn't she?"

Ben nodded.

"She's extremely perspicacious so you have to be careful what you say and do around her."

"Great, so I have to follow a walking lie detector around and think of nothing or she'll read my thoughts."

Luke paused his work. "She read your thoughts? Actually read, not interpreted?"

"Did you miss the word ‘telepath’ at the beginning of this conversation? She said she saw a word in my head."

"I have no idea what her father is teaching that kid, or how.” Luke stared past Ben for what seemed like an infinite moment before sighing, exasperated beyond his years. “Telepathy isn't entry level stuff, but I guess some Force users are naturals. She's going to make an….interesting empress. Good luck, junior."

"Oh—sorry to change the topic but that reminds me—am I allowed to visit home and like, take her with me?"

Luke made a face. 

"She's enamored with the idea of being a space pirate and Dad by extension. And you know he won't come here, and I sort of promised her, and she won't shut up, and it's driving me nuts—"

"Stop saying 'and' or you'll drive  _ me _ nuts. Why won't Han come here?"

"Anakin."

Luke exhaled sharply, hands raking up his scalp. "Right, Dad can't let go of a grudge. This will be a total pain in the ass, you know that right?"

"I know."

"Good. Then you, as Hand-in-training, can plan the security detail. I'll look it over but think of it as your first real assignment. The Emperor usually does business with Alderaan once a quarter, I'd recommend pitching the idea to him before then."

"Me?"

"Consider it a lesson in not making hollow promises."

He was rescued from this daunting task by the princess herself. She was a bigger nuisance to her father when she wanted something and had driven him to a point of near-insomnia with her pestering. The Emperor put up a valiant fight, but was ultimately bested by his ill-behaved demon spawn of a child.

Ben was summoned to the Imperial offices at the end of the quarter for a briefing that felt more like an interrogation. The senior Palpatine looked little like his predecessor, fair hair kept short and pale eyes perpetually bored. Ben wondered fleetingly if he were disinterested in the paper pushing aspects of imperial rule. Not bred for politics, he'd been an enforcer for his late father in his youth. Busywork, in comparison, must have been torturously mundane.

"It would be best if you accompanied us on this excursion to Alderaan. Lord Skywalker will be busy with my protection and she tolerates you more than the regular guards."

He must have looked confused by this, for the Emperor continued.

"She sneaks slugs down their uniforms when they're not paying attention and has, on more than one occasion, replaced dining utensils at a state dinner with worms and other assorted insects that have no place above ground. In an effort to cause as little ire as possible, I'm going to designate you as her main guard for the duration of the trip. Is this agreeable?" His eyes said this was not a question. 

"Yes, sir."

"Perfect. Keep her busy and out of trouble."

Ben was up to his ears in her ghoulish misbehavior the second she was granted permission to tag along. Although it was only a three-day trip, with eight hours in hyperspace each way, it was ample time for the feral little gremlin to stick her nose and ears in places they did not belong. Was her voice always this whiny? Did she hear  _ everything _ he said? The princess was thankfully dragged away by a tutor at the four hour mark and Ben was  _ finally  _ able to retreat to the company of his uncle.

"Excited to see home for the first time in—how long has it been?"

"Almost six months," Ben said as he knocked out Luke's Monnok.

"Was that even a legal move—did Artoo teach you how to play holochess?"

"He might have. And yeah, it'll be nice to sleep in my own bed again."

"I didn't think your quarters at the palace were that bad."

"They're not, but I'm used to nicer sheets. And not having to change them."

"Builds character."

"You say that every time I complain about something."

"Ah, at last, he has a moment of self-awareness—that is  _ definitely _ not legal!"

Leia and two of her advisors met them in the hangar when they arrived hours later, though Ben had to wait until formalities had concluded to greet his mother. He'd been secretly worried she'd have changed in the short time he had been off-world, but she looked the same, smile tired but warm.

"You grew again," she said as she pulled him into a hug. "How tall are you now?"

"Almost six feet?" He hadn't thought to check after noticing he needed to glance down to face his uncle.

"I think Dad's height genes skipped a generation." Luke clapped him on the back. "Junior here got both our shares."

"Great, now that I’m taller, will you finally stop calling me  _ junior?" _

"Nope, not until you're older than I am. Leia, are we in our usual rooms?"

"Ben is, you're not. The imperial family sadly takes precedence over my own."

"No problem, fully expected it. Speaking of them, we're still on duty." Luke tipped an imaginary hat to his sister. "We'll see you at dinner."

"Wait, is Dad here?"

"He's skulking around with Chewie. Mentioned something about target practice and that you'd know where to find him."

He did, thankfully, and the hardest part of getting there proved to be stealing the princess away from her afternoon schooling. She was more than happy to help with that, threatening her governess with a handful of newly-caught toads until the poor woman gave in.

"That lake is so big!" She had to stop to marvel in ten minute intervals, ecstatic to be away from her minders. "We have a house on a lake too, but it's way smaller."

"On Coruscant?"

"Naboo. Dad's family is from there."

He joined her atop a moss-coated boulder. "My grandmother is too but I've never been."

"It's very pretty and green. But there aren't cities in the middle of lakes."

"What planet is your mom from?"

She shrugged. "Don't know, Mom's dead. One of my tutors said that's why Dad lets me do what I want."

"Hold on, what?" She was _dead?_ How had he not noticed she was dead and not off doing diplomatic work? Now that he thought about it, there weren't paintings of the late empress in the palace, or the imperial family. There was just…nothing. A void where an unknown woman once sat.

"I never met her, she died when I was born. My dad doesn't like to talk about it, or her, so I don't know where she's from."

"Sounds like he misses her too much to mention."

Her nose crinkled. "That, or he hated her, I can't tell which."

"You can read my mind but not his?"

"Your head is an open map with a face to match. Dad’s impossible to read. He doesn't smile and mean it."

"I'm…sorry," he said, not fully sure why.

"It's all right. It could be worse. What's your mom like?"

"Strict. But...in a loving way? It's hard to describe."

She sighed, melancholic, and leapt down onto the leaf-covered trail. "Is it much farther to the range?"

"Nope, we're close, though we have to head into the woods a bit first."

"Dad will kill me if I get mud on my boots." A mischievous expression crossed her face. "Let's go!"

He shot off after her, ducking through the brambles and overgrown bushes. "You don't even know where you're going!"

"I do! I can sense your dad!"

Han seemed both surprised and unsurprised to see Ben and the crown princess burst through the hedges, the latter with a handful of leaves caught in her long hair. He cocked an eyebrow. "Not running from any retainers I hope?"

"Nope!" She raised a dirty shoe to Ben, grin wide and catlike. "He'll be so mad."

"As long as he doesn't blame me." He turned to Han. "We're playing hooky, Mom said you'd be down here."

"Already setting bad examples for kids?"

"I made him bring me; I wanted to meet you." She hurried over and pulled herself onto one of the stone walls that made up the perimeter of the range. "You were a space pirate, right? Can you teach me?"

Han laughed. "I like your spunk, kid, but I don't think the Emperor would be very happy with me if I did that."

She huffed and changed tactics. "Then can you tell me stories about your escapades? Ben's told me a few."

He shrugged under his father's gaze. "She was curious, I indulged."

"After dinner, that's always the best time for stories. In the meantime since you're both here—want to try some target practice?"

"If the Emperor finds out you two bantha-brained idiots let his  _ daughter _ discharge a  _ weapon _ on my palace grounds he will mount both of you to his wall like hunting trophies. Do you even  _ think _ before you act?"

"It was supervised!"

"The kid wasn't a bad shot either—"

"Boys!" Leia clapped her hands angrily, snapping them to attention. "Han, you should know better. Ben, I raised you better. This isn't like teaching one of Ben's friends; she is the daughter of the Galactic Emperor. I need to be on the best terms with him this weekend to secure necessary funding for next quarter and things are looking tight as is. If  _ either _ of you jeopardize that by doing something stupid then  _ I _ will hang your heads on  _ my _ wall. Am I crystal kriffing clear?"

Ben swallowed thickly, glancing over to see his father wince. They confirmed in unison. 

"Make yourselves scarce,  _ now." _

Not needing to be told twice, both hurried from Leia's wrath, Han disappearing to tinker with the _ Falcon, _ Ben to hide in his room. Or, rather, that's where he was headed before he got ambushed.

"Your mom is scary."

He swore and jumped out of his skin. Whipping his head upward, he caught sight of where the gremlin princess was hiding out on a support beam. He was going to die of a premature heart attack because of this kid. "How did you get all the way up there?"

She jumped down and landed ungracefully in front of him. "Climbed. Sorry I got you in trouble."

"It's…" He chewed his lip. "You're a great shot."

She blinked and her face lit up, smile cracking fast across her cheeks. "Yeah?"

"Yeah, where'd you learn that?"

"Sometimes my guards show me stuff when I behave. Dad doesn't want me to learn combat skills openly so I have to sneak around."

"I could show you some of the things my uncle teaches me, if you can be discreet about it."

"Really?"

"I can't make any big promises, but I'll see what I can do."

She beamed. "Little promises are good too."

The Emperor retired shortly after dinner with a polite claim of work that needed to be finished by midnight. Luke followed begrudgingly after losing another holochess game with ambiguous rules. The princess bribed her father with a promise of good behavior in exchange for staying up a few extra hours. Giddy, she plunked herself down on the floor in front of Han and Chewie, eyes bright as starbursts.

"So," Leia started, calling Ben's attention back to the game of Sabacc laid on the table between them. Handfuls of colorful candy were stacked up like betting chips, warm nostalgia for the holidays crackling like the fire in the hearth. "Is your appointment still the worst thing ever?"

"No. It's demanding but not the worst."

"Content to stay?"

He glanced across the room to the scene unfurling in front of the fireplace. The princess had the same enormous wonder as he at that age, hanging off every word of Han's old tales. He wondered, briefly, if his grin had been that wide.

An odd feeling of kinship pulled at something in his chest. "Yes. I am."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got impatient so I'm uploading a day early

Rey braced for impact as she skid halfway down the river bank, using what was left of her momentum to turn hard into the woodlands lining the water's edges. Soupy, muggy air was hot in her throat, sticky, like the honey trap she was racing towards. The ground to her right was loamier than the sandy soil of the riparian zone and she pivoted hastily, all but falling into the freshly dug ditch. Shins scraped and slivered, she hunched over to catch her breath.

"I hate this, I hate this." Her lungs burned with pollen and brackish fumes. "How much longer?"

Jemmah handed her water without looking away from her binoculars. "Hard to tell, but I believe we're nearing the end. Did you lead him off course?"

"I think, I don't know." Rey coughed, having drunk too quickly. "Why am I always the rabbit?"

"You're faster than I am."

"Barely. You just want to be the stakeout."

She shrugged. "What can I say? Keeping a lookout for sweaty, bare-chested men is more appealing than running around sweaty myself."

"Ew, Jem, he's like my brother. What if I said that about your siblings?"

"I'd say 'well duh, it runs in the family.' Oh! I see rustling up the hill, go!"

With a groan, Rey took off on tired feet.

Truth be told, she didn't hate this game. It would have been more fun without the heat, but they could only play it in summers on Naboo, away from the High Court and in relative secrecy—it would not go unnoticed on Coruscant and she wasn't supposed to practice in the open. It was informal but exhausting, her future Hand working her to the bone in ways her advisors and peers wouldn't dare. The older she grew, the more intense her training became. Almost halfway through her seventeenth year and he was bleeding her energy and stamina dry.

The sun was scalding, beating hot on her shoulders and neck once she left the cool shade of the underbrush. Her muscles were aflame as she hastened into a sprint. Not much farther now, but the field was still so open to errors. The bottleneck was where she regularly lost, her inferior speed too great of a handicap to overcome with wits and planning alone. Even the Force wasn't much help, which made her question why exactly they played this game.

If she managed to lure her Hand into the trap without knowing, she could make a break for the totem. If not, it was going to be dicey to sprint full speed downhill. She forced a twig to snap several meters to her left, unsure how far ahead she was; it was impossible to hear him, or sense him. Luke had trained his nephew to be better than he was at stealth.

Another twig, the whipping of a branch, her breathing echoed in a faraway space. The hill was close, the ground beneath her toes was shifting—

Rey crashed hard onto the solid earth with a shriek, her fall barely broken by foliage. Fighting against Ben’s weight, she tried in vain to free a wrist from his huge hand. That smug face blocked out the sun.

"The sound displacement was clever, but doesn't work too well when you're out in the open."

"You're not out of breath, why are you not out of breath?"

"Rey, please, who taught you the twig trick?"

She groaned and collapsed into the grassy knoll. An ambush. He caught her in an ambush, after she'd been careful to sweep the area. "Can I be the wolf next? Losing constantly is no fun."

"Who said you'll win as the wolf?" He stood with ease and extended a hand to her. "I never lose. You could always be the stakeout."

"Jem won't switch with me." She scowled as she was hoisted to her feet. "She mostly checks you out instead of helping."

He grimaced, then laughed. "Tell Jemmah to try again in a few months. When’s her birthday?"

"Please do _not_ flirt with my other best friend the second she turns eighteen, I'll be devastated if you fall in love and leave me all alone during the holidays."

"You could always third-wheel."

"And do what? Sit on my hands while you two make out passionately in front of me?"

He waved for her to follow him down to retrieve the totem at the bottom of the hillside. "It wouldn't be _that_ bad. Besides, won't your engagement take place by then?"

"Yeah, if I'm unlucky."

"Still dreaming of being a pirate, hotshot?"

"More and more every single day. I'm thinking of planning a great escape on my birthday, commandeering a ship and disappearing into Wild Space." She had to hurry to keep pace. She'd grown tall and lanky in the last year, but Ben still towered, shoulders high as a mountain peak. "You'd come with me, right?"

"It would be my duty as the Hand-in-Waiting, or whatever my last paycheck called my job." He flashed a wicked grin. "We'd have to bring Jem of course, can't leave my future wife here."

With a yell of _No!_ she knocked into him playfully and they both went down into the tributary. She pinned his wrists to the riverbed, water shallow beside the bank. It was cool between her fingers, against her knees. His dark hair fanned around his face as he made a mock attempt to break free, grin blinding.

"We're not—of course I'd be bringing Jemmah, but I'm not going to third wheel in my own daydream!" She caught her breath around words, giggles still spilling from her mouth.

"You won't be; we'll take your future husband too." He laughed when she pulled an incredibly unattractive face. "I'm only teasing."

"You're the worst, you know that?"

"I am hardly the worst. And anyway between you and me, Jemmah isn't my type at all, so you've got nothing to fear about your two best friends eloping." He tried to shift his weight. "Can you let me up? We should get back soon; I want to shower before the evening nonsense starts again."

With a roll of her eyes and a smile, she stood and pulled him out of the water. "What is your type then?"

"Why? Do you intend to set me up with one of the ladies at court?"

She stiffened in her impression of her father, face contorted into a look of subtle displeasure. "Master Skywalker, it is with privilege and great honor that We see to it that Our Hand finds the most appropriate spouse, so We have decided to play matchmaker and meddle obnoxiously in your affairs."

"You even have the accent down, I'm impressed."

"I've only lived with the man my whole life. So, any hints?"

"They're all rude to me, I'll have to decline."

"I don't think you have to marry anyway. But! I have to approve if you do."

"Got it, so next girlfriend instead of doing a 'meet the parents' we can have a 'meet the future boss'."

 _"Best friend,"_ she corrected. "It's weird to think of myself as your boss."

"Platonic life partner works too, might even be more accurate, all jobs and titles considered."

"I like that," she said, though a spikey feeling in the back of her throat did not. "I can put my feet on the table and crack sarcastic jokes to prepare her to meet Han."

"You'll have to forget her name and just call her 'kid' for at least three months too."

"Sounds awful, I love it."

Jemmah was waiting by the villa gate when they meandered back from the edge of the course. Sitting on the wall looking bored, she had a colorful drink in one hand and a likely-raunchy holonovel in the other. "You losers run yourselves tired?" She pushed sunglasses down her nose. "Why are you all wet?"

"Fell in the river," Rey said quickly. "Was an accident, but since it’s muggier than sin I’m not complaining."

"Thank the gods it's supposed to get colder tonight. Speaking of, are we still going to see the fireworks later?"

Rey turned to give Ben a pleading look.

"Fine," he sighed. "We can go watch explosions. How much longer is this festival supposed to go on?"

"Three more days. Don't give me that face, we're never here during the Festival of Lights. What do you have against it?"

"I can't enjoy going out for holidays anymore because I'm working." He frowned, seemingly at himself. "Sorry, that's a petty complaint. When do you want to head out?"

It was still light after nine, summer sun hugging the edges of the horizon as it dipped lazily down out of sight. Golden rays streamed through the vestibule windows, shimmering brightly on the metal cinching her waist. There was an essence in the night air that made her feel freer, less contained to her title and all its weight. Here, on her paternal homeworld, she could blend in as another young face in the crowd, no questions asked about the gemstones around her neck or the thick gold coils braided into her hair. Everyone so lavishly decorated, it would call more attention to be understated. However, cautious still, she opted for pants and a subdued skirted coat. Nothing fancy, nothing unexpected.

Ben's clothes in contrast were dark and unassuming. He had jewels woven into his hair, the glittering of sapphires and corusca stones distracting curious eyes from the weapon on his belt. He smirked at her when she stared a moment too long. "Did you already forget I'm a prince?"

"Kind of? What's with the hair?"

"You've been visiting here longer than I have, you must know the fashions are absurd to a fault. My grandmother loves hair ornaments and I've inherited a few for shorter styles." He moved a twinkling teardrop back behind his ear. "I think she wanted a granddaughter after dressing my mother up for years. Are we waiting for Jemmah?"

"Are we ever _not_ waiting for Jemmah?"

"Of all the daughters at court you could have befriended, you picked the one who has no sense of time."

"We met when I was six, who cares about punctuality at _six?_ ” She folded her arms. “Besides, she doesn't treat me like a personal favor dispenser and I value that more than her timeliness."

"But it still gets on your nerves."

She chewed her lip but didn't respond.

"Ah! There you two are." Jemmah entered the foyer with a level of dramatic flare Rey had never managed to imitate. Her other best friend was decked head to toe in Naboo's current high fashion, long blonde hair tied back with intricate ornaments, summer-tanned skin glowing against the white of her dress.

"I'm not sure how you do it, but you always look more the part of crown princess than I do."

"That's on purpose, you know that right? I like attention, you don't, consider me the flame to the moths you hate entertaining." She brushed a perfectly curled lock from her forehead. "Sorry to keep you both waiting; shall we then?"

Theed was beautiful in summer, the city full of lush plants, buzzing lights, and vibrant music. Eyes the size of dinner plates, she wandered along beside Jemmah in their hunt for food, art displays, and musicians playing on the wide streets. Rey could almost taste the caf on the air, the roasted, syrupy smell intermingling with the salted aroma of grilled fish and smoked meats.

Her protector stood ever-mindful a few paces behind. His face changed whenever he was working, going from the recognizable son of Queen Leia Organa to a plain-looking youth with unkempt hair and drab clothes. Bored, though, and wouldn't accept food or sparklers.

"He really takes this seriously," Jemmah said after noticing the absence of Ben in their conversation.

"Father would kill him if he didn't—quite literally."

"Your father isn't stupid enough to do that with Anakin still around. He'd probably string your dad up by his toenails and skin him slowly for daring to harm his one grandson."

Rey opened her mouth, then closed it. "Do you like, fantasize about torture methods in your free time?"

"Not usually, I just know you don't threaten the Skywalker clan unless you've got a death wish."

"Wait, hold on, what do you mean ‘ _not usually?’"_

"I said what I said!" She laughed and gave a cryptic wink. "The main fireworks are starting soon, let's move somewhere with a better view."

"I'll catch up in a minute, I saw some meat dish I wanted to try."

It was down the market, farther from the main avenue. Alone for a few seconds, she took in the atmosphere and scenery as fast as she could, cataloguing little details of the dresses on the women, the perfumes passing in the crowd, the general sense of relaxed joviality. Not high strung, not stifling and stiff with old, outdated tradition. Beautiful, really.

She saw the lightsaber before the sound of it unsheathing registered, blue blade surging to life millimeters from her nose. A large, powerful arm tightened across her chest, foreign body heat oozing onto her bare shoulders, the nape of her neck. Ben's voice was distorted as it reverberated through her ribs, aggressively feral, charged with the electric undercurrent of an enraged animal.

Suddenly, uncomfortably, her mind was abuzz with the thoughts of all lifeforms in the vicinity. They drowned out her breathing, brain screaming with the sound of the lightsaber’s crackle, Ben’s rage threatening to detonate, the swirling language of the men circling her, laughter, anxiety, joy—

In front of her, charred bodies lay wasted on the cobbled street. The hilt of a blade was cold in her white-knuckled grip, red light bleeding down Ben’s face.

—The weight of his body crowded her, the scene returning to normal. “Drop your weapons. Don't start a commotion and I won't slice your throats."

The masked figure closest to her spoke in an unfamiliar tongue. Rey watched as he went down on the pavement with the jerk of Ben's outstretched wrist.

"Push my buttons, please, I'm itching to fight."

Three blasters hit the ground.

Her heartbeat was echoing in her ears as the local guards intervened. It kept ringing when Jemmah cupped her face and checked her pupils asking if she were okay. Blood thundered when Ben took her hand to act as a guide, her mind too frazzled to follow directions.

She came briefly to her senses. "Wait, I still want that meat dish."

"You're an idiot." Jemmah produced a small purse from her sleeves. "Get her back safe, I'll fetch it."

"I'm not comfortable with you going by yourself either."

"Suck it up, Solo." She turned to the ranks of their newly acquired protection. "Captain Duul, I'd appreciate if you were to accompany me."

The woman bowed to Ben before following Jemmah.

Rey’s pulse didn't settle when they returned to the villa. If anything, it had gotten worse after a shower and food. Ben continued to hover, his eyes stuck in a dark, violent gaze, mouth pulled taut in a grim line. He remained in her room long after Jemmah tried and failed to get her to sleep.

"I'm sorry," Rey said to the floor, unwilling to make eye contact.

His rigid posture loosened and his brows knit. "For what?"

"Not paying close enough attention. I should have watched where I was going, or been more cautious—"

"They came out of nowhere. You don't have to apologize to me; it's my job to protect you, not the other way around."

"Can you…leave this off your report to Father?"

"I shouldn't."

"Please, if he finds out I'm going to be on house arrest for a year. I can't stand being stuck in the palace."

He sighed. "Fine."

"And I want to start learning how to use a lightsaber in combat."

"Hard no, that'll get me killed and you grounded for eternity."

"I don't want to learn from you or Luke." She steadied herself enough to meet his eyes. "I want to meet you grandad."

He exhaled sharply and stood. "Let's discuss this tomorrow when you've gotten some rest. For what it's worth, I think it's a terrible idea."

"Wait, can you stay with me tonight? I'd feel safer."

"And sleep where, the floor?"

She hadn't thought that far. "We could share the—"

"No, I'm older than you are, highly inappropriate."

"We've fallen asleep on the same couch multiple times."

"When we were both kids. Now you're seventeen and I'm almost twenty-one."

"Listen, I don't care where you sleep, I just don't want to be alone."

He sucked in a breath and was silent, thinking. "Are you really that shaken up?"

"Yeah."

"All right."

She kept her eyes trained to the ceiling, a barricade of pillows dividing the mattress. Piled high as possible, she couldn't see over it unless she propped herself up, which wasn't an option. Her heart ricocheting against her ribs kept her still. Why was she still anxious? Hadn't she exhausted herself yet?

"Rey?"

"Yeah?"

"You're going to be okay. You know it's—I can't see you and I hate this thing." He sat up and she froze, entranced by the way the starlight shimmered like rainfall in his hair. "It's my job to protect you, and I'm always going to be watching out for your safety."

She pushed herself up to face him. "I don't want to be your princess locked in a tower always in need of saving."

"Rescuing and protecting aren't the same. I'm the last line of defense, not the first."

"I guess I knew it was only a matter of time until I started seeing threats to my person. It's so nerve-wracking to be startled into paralysis."

"Do you want to know a secret? I was scared too. Afraid there might have been more behind me, or that they'd see me before I managed to get to you. They were cloaking their signatures. I didn't pick it up until it was almost too late, and I'm furious with myself for it."

"You did well—"

"No, I didn't. We're both still on edge, that's not doing well. At the end of the day you should feel confident in my ability to protect you and I shouldn't feel like I almost let you walk right into danger."

"I don't understand why I feel so…fucked up about what happened."

"Reality showing its ugly face in the middle of a pretty evening?"

"Maybe. And we missed the fireworks." She groaned, panic finally easing. "You're not going to let me go back tomorrow night, are you?"

"No chance in hell. At least, not back into the city." He let a smile sneak across his face. Closer now, she could pick out the moles scattered like stars along his cheekbones. "I hear the palace has a good view."

A brief, intrusive thought whispered for her to kiss him and she smashed it violently down.

"Promise me we can check it out?"

"I promise. Try to get some sleep, princess."

Oh, Force, why did that word make her chest bubble?

Every time he shifted, her brain gave her adrenal glands a swift kick and she was sent into another fit of sparks down her veins and heat on her face. He was asleep quickly, breathing slow and even. It was so distracting. After contemplating for a half hour, muscles stiff from her rigid posture, Rey sat up.

Ben's dark hair floated across his pillow, face finally relaxed after an evening of stress. His shirt rode up around his right hip bone, a sliver of exposed skin pale against black cotton. Did he always have so many moles?

Had she ever really…looked at him?

Not as a friend, or a guard, but as a boy. A man.

This was bad. He was right, this was inappropriate, and wrong, and extremely perverse, and should stop immediately.

Right now.

_Right—_

She violated a precious, sacred contract with her want to brush stray locks from his cheeks. This was a crush, and apt with its naming she was going to get her heart obliterated into a billion tiny pieces if she didn't stop this right kriffing _now—_

Morning found Rey alone, the pillow fortress broken down and a thin blanket draped over her shoulders. He'd snuck out during what must have been the only scrap of rest she managed to get. Tired but unable to get back to sleep, she lay awake torturing herself with last night's awful revelation.

It was normal to have a dumb silly crush on an older friend, right? Wasn't this how things worked? Younger friend pines for the older one when they still have a shallow concept of romantic emotions, older friend knows better, turns them down gently, and they realize it was admiration, not adoration. Then both friends go on with life as usual, like nothing ever happened. 

Right?

Was it even a crush? Why was she only now realizing Ben was attractive? Or had she always known subconsciously? Did she not _just_ tell Jemmah she thought of him like a brother, that even looking at him another way was strange and uncomfortable?

He wouldn't reciprocate, which was good. Not only was she too young, she also wasn't allowed to have relationships outside of her impending engagement. Her spouse would be picked for her by her father and she'd have to deal with it for the good of the Empire or the bloodline or whatever other bullshit he was peddling when she asked. On top of that, she was positively, absolutely, disallowed from having a relationship with her Hand. _That_ was explicitly Illegal and Bad. The Senate would have a fit if the two highest bloodlines ended up merging. It wouldn't look good for the power structure.

All in all, this was a stupid baby crush that wasn't going anywhere. She might as well pretend it didn't exist. Not like she wasn’t already wearing a mask over her emotions almost every waking hour. 

"Are you gonna divulge why you've looked like you taped your eyes open all day?" Jemmah leaned back against the railing on the observation deck, the glow of the city illuminating the dark sky. "Don't say you're still jittery from yesterday."

"I'm not, I just didn't sleep well."

"That makes you look wide awake and not dead asleep?"

"I've got a lot on my mind."

"Are you actually not going to tell me?" She threw back her head and laughed. "Seriously, what's up?"

"We can talk about it later when there aren't other people around."

"All right, all right, I concede. Lame question to ease back into casual conversation: how did you manage to get us up here? This is like, some other level of swanky."

Theed was well known for its lavish decor and the deck was no exception. Tropical plants in ornamented pots lined the perimeter, strings of lights wrapping around sturdy branches and broad fan-shaped leaves. Bright candles were arranged in intricate mosaics atop stone tables, bowls of food and flower petals crammed into the leftover space. Music floated loftily on the soft breeze, a smooth voice accompanied by ethereal strings.

She would love to take credit for procuring the invitations; might have made her feel a little more princessly and less like a dumbass. "I didn't, Ben did, you'll have to ask him."

"I didn't know not-yet-Hands had this sort of diplomatic power."

"His grandmother was a Queen of Naboo years ago. Well liked enough that the current Queen is willing to do a few favors if I had to take a guess."

"Why are you guessing and not asking?"

"Wasn't curious."

She cocked an eyebrow. "You are not acting yourself, at all."

Rey groaned and rested her forearms on the railing. "I feel like my head is stuck in some fog, as if I'm lost and don't know which direction is out. Do you ever get like that?"

"Sometimes, not often. But then again I'm not making a bunch of huge decisions yet, so the feeling isn't as familiar."

"It doesn't stem from a big decision. It's more like...an opinion?"

"An opinion," she repeated, deadpan.

"That sounds dumb, but I can't articulate it right now and I don't want to analyze it."

Jemmah sighed. "Then let's table it. Besides, I think it's close to celebration time, we should meander back to the rest of the party."

Dragging her feet would look suspicious, so instead she slapped on a plastic smile and followed behind with her chin high. It was both startling and a little odd that even now on the top of the Theed Palace, the halls from which her father hailed, she went unrecognized as the crown princess. Several attendants stopped Jemmah as if it were she, her long golden waves like a delicate crown atop her head, her presence grand and regal but not haughty.

What struck her as strangest of the misidentification was that they two looked nothing alike. Rey had her father's brow, the squareness of his jaw. Jemmah, in comparison, was like a nymph in a painting, classically feminine, the curve of her shoulders and breast softer, less blocky.

She bit back the bile rising in her throat.

"Hey." Jemmah snapped her fingers. "Are you in a trance or something?"

"Sorry. Distracted again."

"Gods almighty. I'm going to get something to drink, do you want anything?"

A large tall glass of far the fuck away from here. "Do they have that blue fruit thing we tried yesterday?"

"I'll take a look. Don't walk off the deck or something stupid while I'm gone."

A low whistle to her left sounded once Jemmah was out of earshot. "I have not seen you this flighty in months."

Ben, great, just the person she was avoiding. "Do you ever think it's weird she gets mistaken for me?"

"I thought you didn't like to be in the spotlight?"

"I _don't,_ but I feel kind of…bizarre about it. I'm fine with the fact that she takes attention away from me, but I don't like that no one seems to know who I am." And that she didn't cut as striking a figure, wasn't the same kind of natural beauty, didn't get the (albeit teasing) attention from her Hand for insisting on looking so effortlessly gorgeous all the time—

Ah. There was the root of it.

"She was raised differently than you were," Ben said with a shrug. "She's in line to be the duchess of a tourist trap that places a lot of its chips on aesthetics. You're the sole heir of the Empire and will be challenged constantly in court and in war games. If you acted the way she does, put as much emphasis on your looks, don't you think you'd get torn apart by your dissenters?"

"Are you calling me ugly?"

Ben froze.

"I'm teasing you."

"Hard to tell when you look that grim." He stretched and beckoned her to a more secluded corner of the deck. "For the record, no, I'm not calling you ugly, I'm saying you both have different motivations for looking and acting the way you do. And you shouldn't feel inferior because Jem looks the way the public expects of a princess and you look the way politicians feared you would."

"What the kriff is that supposed to mean?"

"You're not delicate or dainty; you're stronger than they want you to be, unmoldable. Hey." He bumped her shoulder with his and a thousand honeybees surged down her nerves. "Don't be so down. I heard there were supposed to be fireworks tonight. Would you want to watch them with me?"

She smiled up at him, the first explosion dazzlingly reflected in his eyes. "I would."

  
  


She hit the floor back-first, stone hard and glacial underneath her thin tunic. Wind forced from her lungs, she gasped like a breathless fish and coughed, dizzy. Pain radiated from her tailbone when she tried to move.

A hand extended down and pulled her to her feet like a satchel of feathers.

"Your head seems elsewhere, tiger." Anakin's frown was more concerned than disappointed, the line of his mouth disappearing into his beard. "I think we should call it for today."

"Already?"

"You've landed one good hit in an hour; practicing when you're unfocused leads to bad habits."

"This feels like such a waste, I've barely got spare time this week."

"Knowing when to stop isn't a waste. Walk with me, we can still work on non-combat exercises."

The Skywalker estate was a lush, ethereal paradise hidden inside Coruscant's industrial skyline. Rey had been sneaking out of the palace to wander its grounds for five and a half months and was still discovering hidden grottos and exotic flowering plants. Much to Ben’s chagrin, Anakin had taken to her quickly and her father had given his blessing for her to learn under the Skywalker legend. And he, like his grandson, worked her until her calluses ripped and her palms bled.

"Are we going to do Force training today?"

"Didn't you do that with your father already this week?"

"Yeah. I don't mind doing it again."

"We don't need to double lessons. Instead, let’s work on mental strength." Anakin gingerly pushed a lanky branch aside as he led her into the gardens. "Can't be letting your mind wander in the face of danger."

"You're going to make me talk about it, aren't you?"

" _Make_ you? No, of course not." His smirk was pure evil. "You want to tell me though, don't you?"

"It's just—" she groaned. "I don't have any other adults I'm close to and it would be uncomfortable to bring it up with Father."

"Do you not get along?"

"We don't really have a father-daughter relationship. Or any kind of familial relationship, to the point where I don't know anything about my mother."

"Nothing?"

"She had the same color hair, that's all I've managed to figure out. I don't know her name, or what she looked like."

"I knew her." He stopped in front of the fountains, motioning to the bench across from the burbling water. "We weren’t close, but she was present in the Court before your grandfather passed."

"I've heard it more along the lines that he was murdered."

"I can neither confirm nor deny."

"I will take that as confirmation."

He rolled his eyes. "She was an interesting conversationalist. Rarely spoke, but when she did it was a suckerpunch, like she'd been saving all her words for this one line that would continue to haunt you hours later."

"I've always been under the impression that my father disliked her immensely. There are no portraits of my mother in the palace."

“He loved her, dearly.”

“How would you know?”

Anakin gave her an incredulous look. “We grew up together. Do you really not know any of his personal mythology?”

“Nope. He doesn’t talk to me about anything that’s not related to lessons or politics.”

“Maybe it’s time you ask. Have you tried talking to him about your mother?"

"No?" She kicked a stone and watched it disappear into the grass. "I'd probably get thrown out of his office if I waltzed in and went 'hello father, I've come to talk to you about your dead wife.'"

"A little more tact might be good."

"Greetings paternal figure, I would like to engage in conversation about my deceased maternal progenitor."

"I said tact, not sass."

"Fine, I'll try it. Only once, and no promises that he'll open up. Even if he does, I wouldn't be comfortable telling him about what's bothering me; it feels weird to bother him about trivial nonsense." She took a deep breath. "Can I…can you be my dad for a few minutes?"

Anakin's smile was warm. "Sure, I've had enough practice by now."

"I'm…nervous." She steadied her breath, eyes focused far ahead. "My birthday is in a month and a half and I'm going to be expected to start entertaining suitors. And I don't want to, at all. I'd like to have time for myself as an adult before I have to sign my life away to some forced marriage, and I—…I have feelings for someone already."

"Does this someone know?"

"What? Of course not!" Her face grew warm. "I'm not allowed to date, or feel things. Besides, they can't know because they're not on my father's list of Appropriate Political Marriage Choices."

"Would you be content to get married to someone else and never tell this person?"

"Prepared, yes. Content? Absolutely not."

Anakin leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. "Did I ever tell you the story of how Padmé and I met?"

"I don't think so."

"We were on opposite sides of the government and as I'm sure you're painfully aware, romantic pursuits across the two bodies are heavily frowned upon. Fear of corruption or something that happens anyway." He shrugged. "Clearly that didn't work. I thought we were careful about it but looking back it must have been obvious to everyone around us. We hid our relationship until it was no longer possible. And I'll admit I was surprised by how little others seemed to care, and the lack of intervention. I'd been so worried for months and months, losing sleep until all of a sudden—nothing."

"I don't think this relates to my situation. The issue isn't just taboo, it's illegal."

"...Illegal."

"The High Court would get involved."

His eyes widened. "Don't tell me it's—"

 _"STOP! Don't say it!"_ Rey threw her hands over her ears and wanted to die right there on the bench. "If you say it I can't keep avoiding it. I don't want to act on it, or tell him."

"Isn't knowing better than wondering ‘ _what if?’_ for years?"

"No. If it's a no, I'm crushed and have to see him every day for the rest of my life. If it's a yes, then I'm crushed and have to see him every day for the rest of my life knowing he is also crushed." She choked back something molten and constricting. "It's forbidden and I'm not going to go against my father and screw up a potential diplomatic move. I'm going to be a good daughter and a better empress, even if it kills me inside."

He sighed. "I hope that whatever you choose is the right thing to do for your conscience."

She hoped so too.

It was hours later when she came across her object of emotional turmoil. He was taking dinner in her library, studying for some surprise quiz Luke had been threatening for a month. She turned on her heel at the sight of those warm brown eyes.

"You're not interrupting, come in."

Rats. Rats rats rats. She slumped into an armchair. "Can I bother you for a few minutes?"

"Sure, what's up?"

"Do you remember when you first got here and I teased you about a girl you liked?"

"Vaguely."

"I'd said something about thinking loving people made you happy and you said to come talk to you when I got my first crush. So," she tossed her arms limply into the air. "Surprise, you were right, it does not."

He set his datapad down. "Wow."

"That's all you can say? Wow?"

"I never thought you, our ice princess extraordinaire, would feel enough warmth in your heart to have a crush."

"Hey!"

"I'm joking!" He dodged a poorly-thrown stylus. "I thought you galactic royals didn't let yourselves get feelings due to the impending doom of an arranged marriage."

"You can't help who you like even if you're royal."

"Fair, and now that you've divulged this much, you have to tell me about him."

"No chance in hell."

"I'm deathly curious. Come on, you've bugged me about mine before."

And she hated that she had, and hated every single one of them. "Fine, he has two eyes and two feet. Teeth, ears, maybe even a nose."

"That narrows it down considerably," he nodded, one hand on his chin, gaze astute.

"He's a little goofy—what is with that _face!_ ” She threw her head back, laughing at the seriousness of his expression. “He’s cocky too, but it's warranted."

"Is the only stop on this ride Vague City? What's he look like?"

"Blond, on the skinny side," she lied. "Very suave, definitely has more than one admirer."

"Are we going to play the guessing game until I get the name right?"

"Yep."

He dragged a hand through his dark hair. It was getting long again, covering his ears, his neck. "You don't make this easy."

"I am not trying to make it easy."

"I need to think of an answer. In the meanwhile, I hereby declare your bothering time up, leave me so I may speed read in fear of my dear uncle manifesting under the rug and shouting questions at me."

"Does he really do that?"

"Stick around and find out."

Taking her leave, she stopped to slide down the wall around the corner. That was too close. Tension continued to coil in her legs, as though she were getting ready to race away from this glaring problem. His eyes were too soft, too inviting, and she was doomed to slip up and say _it’s you,_ when he came back with a hypothetical name. Shouldn’t telling be cathartic? A way to move on and forget these hopeless loose ends? Why, then, did her own throat strangle her when the words were ready to pour from her lips? She waited for her breathing to calm before standing, composing herself into an impenetrable mask.

The halls to the Emperor’s chambers grew more spartan the deeper into his apartments she went. The palace in the holovids she'd seen when her father was a young man was garishly ostentatious, reds and golds in every room, statues of her grandfather standing tall in the corridors, myriad art pieces and decorations littering the walls—it was an overwhelming display of wealth. The rooms were minimal now, stark black against pristine white stone. Nothing of sentimental value was kept in sight.

The Emperor was seated at his desk, perpetual frown stuck on his features. Lost in concentration, she had to clear her throat to get his attention.

"Do you need something?"

With a deep breath, she collected herself and sat neatly in the chair across from him. "I want to know more about my mother."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you'll believe me, Jemmah was created solely to inform you, the reader, Ben was likely running around shirtless.
> 
> I gave Anakin a beard and am not taking criticism for this choice.
> 
> Brief Q&A:
> 
> How much longer is Rey baby?  
> -Her birthday opens next chapter so she is done being baby
> 
> Will Jemmah be a recurring character?  
> -Yes, she's pretty integral to the story
> 
> There won't be a love triangle for drama right?  
> -There will not! I find them tiring


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! I'm moving the update day to Saturday/Sunday.
> 
> The next chapter and a half are finished (4 is also edited) but I may need to skip posting next week; both my beta and I are participating in the Anthology Valentine's exchange and the deadline is fast approaching! (I prefer to have like, 2 chapters finished and ready when I post).

Parties weren't Ben’s thing.

He didn't mind attending, but it was a chore to spend the night working, having to keep watch in the middle of a hectic nightmare of squabbling seamstresses, angry cooks, disgruntled serving staff, grumbling androids, bellacose foreigners—oh he could practically taste the ensuing headache. It was bad enough when Rey was merely a guest. Tonight she was the belle of the ball and the paranoia that had been crawling along the edges of his buzzing brain for a week was threatening to erupt.

It was Rey’s eighteenth birthday and her entrance into the marriage scene of equally politically and royally connected suitors. Which meant even _more_ angry foreign nationals; it was already hard to keep up with who was at war with whom when at court. He'd have to deal with all that later. For now he was content to hide out in her dressing room as she was swarmed by a herd of beings armed with pin cushions and sewing needles. Seated on the edge of the dias in an oversized armchair, he found himself roped into her indecisive search for an outfit.

"How do you like this one?"

He shrugged. "It's a dress."

"They're all dresses."

"Looks dressy?"

"Ben, I'll kick you out."

"I don't like you in green."

She deflated, arms falling to her sides. "Why not?"

"Dunno, just isn’t your color."

"Can you provide adequate reasoning so I don't waste more time if your opinion is warranted?"

"There's nothing wrong with green, it just seems to say 'youth' and 'springtime' while it's currently winter and you're coming of age. I'd feel the same if you were trying on pink or yellow."

She blinked. "That's an actual opinion."

"Did you think I was just being antagonistic for the hell of it?"

"Honestly? Yes."

"Please, Rey, I come from a long line of women who own more gowns than there are stars in the galaxy. I’ve paid _some_ attention."

She scowled at herself in the mirror. "What do you suggest then, O Lord of the Women's Clothing?"

"Red. Mature, warm but not bright or whimsical, appropriate for the season."

"Red? For the Empire? Groundbreaking."

"Hey, you asked. Blood of the Empire never goes out of style."

With an eye roll, she crouched and spoke to one of the seamstresses, their conversation hushed but interpretable. The small creature departed quickly, dragging a co-worker along. "Turn around again please, they're going to see what they have."

He sighed, threw his legs over one of the chair's arms, and moved to face the tufted back. "I thought you'd have figured this out earlier than the day-of."

"I've been too busy and this takes forever—ow! Careful please!"

"That's fair, this does feel like it's been an eternity. Why am I here and not Jemmah?"

"Because you're shirking your post by hiding from Luke and she's downstairs with the catering staff. Do you know what she's wearing?"

"Do you not?"

"No, she won't tell me for fear that I'll subconsciously pick something similar so we'll get mistaken for each other. And I know you two talked about it." She sounded bitter, vinegar trickling down her teeth.

"It's pastel lavender, very floaty and feminine. Not your style."

"I don't have a style for formalwear; I rarely get to dress myself for these sorts of occasions."

He shrugged. "Well, it doesn't look like something I'd expect you to pick out."

"You can look now."

The dress was deep red, rich, the color of venous blood. Stiff, structured fabric extended over the shoulder of the dress’s one long sleeve like a folded silk fan. The heavy cloth wrapped across the bodice and was gathered at her waist with a thick gold belt, pooling softly on the floor. She crossed her arms and shifted her weight, one slender leg exposed by a hip-high slit.

"Well? How dumb is this one so I can take it off?"

"Actually, I—" he licked his bottom lip, mouth dry. "It's fine."

 _"Uh, um, it's fine,"_ she mocked.

"You look regal."

"I look flashy."

"It's your party, you're allowed to be flashy. It's _expected_ you stand out."

"Whatever, do you like it or not? 'Fine' is noncommittal."

"I like it. It emphasizes your shape."

She grimaced, embarrassed flush rising up her cheeks "All right, I'll wear it. Turn back around so these safety pin-wielding ladies can stab me a few more times in private."

"Yes ma'am."

"What are you wearing?"

"Whatever my grandmother tricks me into, I assume."

"Can't dress yourself either?"

"I can, thank you very much, but I'm not well educated in Naboo's formal attire."

"Naboo? Shouldn’t you be dressed for Alderaan?"

"I'm not allowed to represent my home planet tonight, one of your suitors is Alderaanian and I was ordered to not make things confusing."

"Seems idiotic I'd be allowed to marry someone from there when we already have you at Court."

"I agree, but I don't make the rules."

"I know. All these laws and restrictions feel so stifling. It’s silly, but I kind of wish we'd run off last night and abandoned our posts for a grand, daring adventure."

"We can still go, if you wanted."

"Don't tease, you know that's not a possibility." Her voice was soft, melancholic. "At the very least, I'm glad you'll be beside me tonight, no matter what nonsense is likely to happen."

Ben left before the alterations were finished, no longer able to avoid his job functions. Luke led a walkthrough of all the entrances and exits in the main ballroom, as well as the surrounding hallways, parlors, and powder rooms. There were more secret passages and hidden entryways than he remembered, some fully blocked off and others with barely concealed doors.

Padmé found him next, prying him away from her son's death grip and hauling him to her offices. Her perfectionism was exhausting, robe after robe draped onto his shoulders only to be yanked off in dissatisfaction. She stood and watched with a shrewd gaze as he was dressed and redressed for an hour.

"I think this is it."

He turned to face his reflection in triplicate. The outer robe was a desaturated cobalt blue with silver lapels. A lighter inner robe with an asymmetric collar was layered over a dark, high-collared shirt. The billowing ensemble was secured at the waist with a thick black belt, silver chain dotted with sapphires coiled around. 

The sleeves were so wide. "I look like I belong at court."

"Almost, you're missing a few final touches." He ducked when his grandmother beckoned, remaining steady as she wove jewels into his hair, little stars connected by delicate silver strands. They were matched with a heavy collar of meteor-black metal and ocean-hued stones, tucked neatly under the first robe and weighted across his breastbone.

"You're making me too pretty." He turned his head to the side, watching dainty earrings swing like delicate comets.

"It's rare you're able to dress your heritage, sweetheart, indulge when you can."

"It's surreal is all, seeing myself looking infinitely different." 

In the mirror, a prince with dark eyes stared back.

  
  


"Can you fuckin' sit still? Gods, how the hell did they sew you into this dress with all your squirming?"

"That was fine, I just hate having my hair done."

"Yeah, no shit."

Rey bit back a shriek as Jemmah yanked her hair into a tighter bun. Her handmaidens had long given up on styling it, one likening the process to herding nexus before quitting. Jemmah, dissuaded by nothing when it came to beauty routines, stepped in to make sure she didn't look like a feral gremlin living in a cave who mistook lipstick for a food item.

"If you turn your head one more goddamn time I'm going to slit your throat with this comb."

"Then don't pull so hard! Force, you're going to rip my hair out."

"Not if you _stop moving your head!"_

Another ten minutes of yowling and it was over, finally.

Jemmah dropped the remaining pins on the vanity and threw her hands into the air. "There, that's as good as it's going to get."

"Oh, I like it." She curled a finger around one of the pieces framing her face. "Can you help with the aigrette?"

Jemmah looked between the jeweled hair piece and her hard work. Rey watched the light in her eyes die realizing they weren't compatible. "Know that I hate you, immensely."

She did her best not to move this time.

"Where did this come from anyway? I don't think I've seen you wear it before."

"It was my mother's for her coming of age. Father gave it to me last night." He'd done so with few words and a solemn expression. They'd nonverbally agreed not to acknowledge the mistiness in his eyes.

"I'm sure you look as beautiful as she did." Jemmah put her hands on Rey's shoulder, smiling at her in the mirror. "Ready to scope out the room?"

It was early, few guests mingling amongst themselves in the grand ballroom below. The room had been refinished recently, the creamy marble floor polished and the intricate black and white inlays resurfaced where needed. Golden lights cast warm shadows on the many garlands hanging on the walls and over the two massive doorways. The orchestra was still tuning, audible over the sparse conversations. She would be the last to join the party, escorted by her father per tradition. Her entrance hours away, she and Jemmah staked out the room from a second floor balcony, watching the growing crowd with jittery anticipation.

"So,” Jemmah started as she passed her their small shared plate of finger food. “Who's in your top ten list?"

"Top ten what?"

"Attractive suitors, duh."

"Didn't make one."

"Are you kidding me? All this eye candy and you didn't pre-select any? Do you know how many people are going to be here? It'll be hell to pick on the fly."

"I'll manage." She'd already decided on one and had no intentions of choosing another.

"I have a list if you want."

Rey snorted. "We do not have the same taste in men."

"How am I supposed to know that? You've had all of one crush and you didn't even tell me about it, I had to torture it out of Ben."

"You _what?"_

"I did what the good of the Empire required. All's fair in court politics and gossip wars."

"I don't think that's the right quote." She was going to kill Ben. "Well, what did he tell you?"

"Tall, blond, and suave, which describes no one I know. I'm thinking you either lied to him, or he lied to me."

“What motivation would either of us have to lie about that?”

“I’m not the mind reader, you figure it out.”

She would have, but it had been months since she'd tried, too anxious after the incident on Naboo.

Rey gave a range of half-hearted and falsely enthusiastic responses to Jemmah's suggestions as they arrived. There were a fair number of semi-attractive young men in the halls below but it felt awkward to look, as if she were cheating somehow. Which was stupid and unhelpful since she'd have to marry one of them at some point. Not one jumped out to take her attention away. Dazzling but empty smiles, too young, too old, uncannily attractive, just short of breathtakingly beautiful—

Who was _he?_ "Oh. Wow, that one is pretty."

"Which one?"

"To the left, near the Baron who heads the Trade Commission."

Though it was hard to see more detail from this far, he was tall and cut a striking figure, long robes trailing like a gentle tide. The more he moved, the more mesmerized she became.

Jemmah smacked Rey in the arm. "You idiot, that's your Hand. Good grief, _look."_

Rey took the proffered binoculars and held her breath. Night-black hair, constellations of moles, gentle eyes, smug grin—

Yep, that was Ben.

A whole room full of suitable bachelors and he was the only one to stand out, a gilded coin atop a stack of tarnished copper. And he was beautiful. And her whole chest ached. And she wanted to crawl out a window and die after pointing him out to Jemmah.

"He cleans up, I'll give you that." Jemmah cocked her head. "He cleans up _really_ well."

"Do _not_ flirt with my Hand."

"Don't be a spoilsport."

"You two are my best friends; if you elope and leave me here I will be devastated and die of loneliness." And she'd be crushed having to watch that happen, wanting the best for her two closest companions but also being so goddamn desperate for one of them.

Jemmah's laugh took her out of her sulk. "Ben is _not_ my type, my sole goal is to embarrass him. We've made a game of it and I'm winning."

"You have my permission to embarrass him if I'm able to watch." It was for the good cause of seeing how red his face would flush.

They shook on it and went back to observing. She glanced around the room a few times but her gaze always came back to Ben. He was dressed handsomely tonight, lights from the chandeliers dancing on his hair, the jewels around his neck, the embroidery on his robes. He drew attention effortlessly towards himself, like rainwater collecting in cup-shaped leaves. She would be nervous when she approached him later, fearful of letting her secret slip when in front of that beautiful face.

Was his hair as silky as it looked? Were his hands callused like hers? Would his shoulder be muscular and firm under her grip if she asked him to dance?

She shouldn't think about his lips, or kissing him—how soft, how intoxicating—or she'd spend the rest of the night holed up in a closet wishing she didn't exist.

"Hey." Jemmah tugged her attention away. "We have to go, it's time."

She could endure a few hours of self-torture, right?

Wine, women, and song filled the main ballroom to the brim, melodic laughter mixing with the soft hum of strings, fruited perfumes hanging sweetly in the air. Ben couldn't rely on his senses with this cacophony, needing a higher degree of attention than his eyes and ears could deliver. It was proving difficult to multitask, mingling with conversations and keeping vigilant for things out of the ordinary.

Mostly though, it was exhausting to look interested in the vapid, ceaseless conversations in which he found himself an unwilling participant. His eyelids drooped as the Duke of Scipio kept going on,

And on

And _on_

About the weather at home, the money they'd recently spent on renovations, how _lovely_ it was, Master Skywalker, wouldn't you _please_ convince the crown princess to visit? It would be so good for relations.

No, he would not.

He'd rather tear his own eyeballs out with a rusted utensil.

But he smiled politely, bowed his head gracefully, and sidestepped a committed response. Then, carefully, he extracted himself from one vacuous conversation and walked right into another. How much longer before they started? He'd inherited his distaste for rubbing elbows with nobles from his father and, not yet an hour in, he was tempted to drink.

Luke would kill him if he did.

Might be worth it.

Another half hour of wanting to hide in a broom closet passed before the rumble of voices settled into a lull, dropping to near-quiet at the sight of the Emperor. Ben excused himself to his post, standing on his tiptoes to be sure the other guards were heading to theirs.

The Emperor, with a flute of champagne in one hand, called the crowd to attention. Black velvet robes with gilt embroidery dusted the floor as he took his place on a small rostrum beside the chamber orchestra. This was, perhaps, the only time Ben had seen the man smile and mean it.

His voice was clear and loud, echoing from the speakers hidden throughout the room. "My dear fellow citizens, subjects, ladies and gentlebeings, I would like to thank you all for your attendance, and trust you have been enjoying yourselves thus far As you are aware—for it is the night's occasion—my daughter will come of age in a few short hours. On her shoulders this Empire will rest, and I entrust you all, my closest compatriots, will guide her when I no longer can.

"May I present her Imperial Highness, Crown Princess Rey Etanya Palpatine of the Galactic Empire."

Her attire was no different from when he'd last seen her in the dressing rooms, but a magnificent spirit had since been breathed into the heavy fabric. Head held high, grace of a springing doe in her step, she took her place beside her father and held one hand flat to dismiss the clapping ringing through the room.

Ben didn't hear what she said.

Ben couldn’t pay attention to what she said.

Her brilliant smile had pierced straight through his skull and he was locked against the wall. He never found himself on this side of her mask, watching the careful, captivating calculations of her practiced mannerisms. She was an open blossom in a butterfly's meadow, a delicate rose on a lover's bureau, a—

A snake with open jaws, luring in prey with the hypnotic patterns on her hood.

He sucked in a breath, a field mouse tangled up in her coils.

The spell broke when she descended into the ranks of nobility waiting to kiss the air over her cheeks, to press their lips to the back of her hands, to mingle for a second in the bright supernova, insects captured fast in her flames.

"There you are." Jemmah manifested at his elbow, long golden curls cascading like a waterfall over her right shoulder. The neckline of her sheer violet dress plunged all the way down to the belt at her waist.

"How does that thing stay up?"

"Tape, practice, and knowing how not to bend."

"It looks uncomfortable."

"A little, yeah. Adjusting it sucks but it's a pretty enough dress that I'll deal with both it and these awful heels."

Ben grimaced. The need to torture oneself for the sake of fashion was not a sentiment he could empathize with. "In other news, how is our favorite princess doing?"

She gave him a pained look and sucked a breath in through her teeth. "Okay? I think?"

"You think?"

"She is particularly unenthusiastic about meeting suitors. I don't blame her; having to deal with young, horny men was the worst part of my coming of age as well."

Ben remembered that night fondly. Jemmah's home planet, Spira, was a tropical waterworld of long island chains and azure oceans. Ever the firecracker, she'd challenged all her hopeful pursuers to drunken fencing matches for her hand. To the surprise of no one, she remained unengaged.

He and Rey had ditched the party later in the night to wander the beach, evening air crisp and perfumed with the salted spray of the sea. They'd found an outcrop of stones washed flat by the ocean waves and sat together, making up backstories for all the guests.

"That was…quite the party."

"It was a riot, shame this one is required to be boring."

"I hear engagement parties tend to be less restrained."

Jemmah snorted. "She's going to be _miserable_ at hers, guaranteed. It'll be a funeral for her freedom and happiness."

"Seems kind of cruel to wish that on her. Who says she won't find someone she likes?"

"I never said _that."_ She leaned back against the wall, shoulder brushing his, the fabric of their sleeves crinkling softly. "Of course she might find someone, but I suspect it'll close a door she wants open. And if it does, trust I'll attend in black."

"You'll have to tell me, then, when the time comes. I wouldn't want to be inappropriately dressed."

"I don't think you'll need me to tell you. Speak of the devil, here comes the birthday girl."

Rey was doing a piss poor job of hiding her annoyance, lips pulled tight, thin lines scored between her brows. The crowd parted for her as if she were leading a charge, fists wound fiercely at her sides. She stopped in front of them and opened her mouth only to close it again, frown growing.

"Nexu got your tongue?"

"No, I just—" she cut herself off with a strangled sound. "Some asshole tried to grab my ass. Have either of you seen my father? I want that pompous slimeball thrown out but I've been ordered not to cause a scene."

"I have a better idea and I can start a ruckus." Jemmah pushed herself to her feet. "Who was it?"

"Some lesser noble from a Mid-Rim planet, smarmy looking, tacky coat, way too much jewelry."

"Did you leave him with the bored-looking Baroness of Kuat?"

"Yeah, can you apologize to her for me if you're going that route?"

Jemmah disappeared into the fray like smoke into cold night air.

Rey took her place next to him with a deeply upset sigh. "This has been enough excitement for one evening."

"It's not even eight."

"Feels like midnight." She reached for a wine glass on a passing caterer's tray and he plucked it from her grip. "Hey! First night I'm legally allowed to drink and you're going to block me?"

"Your father will have me hanged if I let you get sloppy."

"It's one glass. Can't I—oh my god are you really going to drink it instead, seriously Ben?"

"It's good wine."

Her glare had teeth.

"But…I think we can share one glass without getting in too much trouble."

She took a large gulp before handing it back. "How many more hours?"

"Too many. Are you really not enjoying yourself?"

"No. It's my birthday and instead of being able to spend it with people I care about, I've been made into a museum exhibit. Everyone's watching me, trying to impress me, entice me. Not to mention I've been sewn into this torture contraption and have to wait for the party to end to even change."

He could empathize, remembering his own overdone birthdays. "I know it's barely a consolation prize, but you look beautiful tonight."

She blushed into the wine. "Thanks. You cleaned up well too."

"I cleaned up well? Does that mean I'm usually a grotesque-looking goblin in my daily life?"

"No!" She flushed deeper at his teasing. "I didn't recognize you at first is all. I'm so used to seeing you in your guard uniform. You look handsome tonight." With a small smile, she turned towards him. "Would it be gauche to stay a wallflower with you for the rest of the party?"

"It would, but I won't object."

She settled beside him to people-watch, her upper arm pressed tightly against his, fingers mixing with the passing of the wine glass. It was a comfortable routine they slipped into, pointing out strange outfits and fabricating stories for the guests in attendance. He would miss being her closest confidant when her engagement was announced, being forced backwards to make room for her spouse.

A loud hiss across the room snapped his attention elsewhere. Blonde curls bobbed near the source, slinking quickly in the opposite direction as more partygoers turned their heads. They watched the slow disbursement of people away from the assgrabber. Whatever Jemmah did left a void behind, forcing the man to retreat to another corner, away from questioning glances and whispered gossip.

The lull to follow was short lived, festivities returning in the wake of a breath. With it arrived a newcomer; tall, thin, white-gold hair. His grin was dazzling. Dipping gracefully into a bow, he introduced himself as the count of a faraway land. "May I borrow the Princess for a dance?"

Ben elbowed Rey softly when she stalled.

"Of course," she said slowly and took his hand.

He watched as she wandered onto the floor, fierce girl made timid by an apparent crush. It took a few minutes for her to regain composure, movement less reserved. He let himself relax when she flashed a smile. Both good friends otherwise occupied, Ben returned to the full duties of his post, filtering out distractions and stray thoughts.

Hours went by without a long interruption. Rey was passed to each successive dance partner in a flurry of hands and long robes. She snuck away from the ballroom floor several times to goad Jemmah into saving her and her likely-blistered feet. Jemmah would smile sweetly and toss her back to the wolves.

As the evening wore on, so did Rey’s hesitations. "Your turn," she said half-breathless between them, grin fast on rosy cheeks.

"Me?" Jemmah laughed. "I'm not going in your place." 

"Not you, him. Ben, dance with me."

 _"Me?"_ It came out more incredulous than intended.

"Yes you, you've been standing here all night."

"It's my job to stand here all night."

"It's your job to guard me and you can do that better if you're close by." 

"I don't think it's a good idea."

"One dance."

He looked to Jemmah for disapproval and found only a smirk.

"What's the harm?" He really hated that feline look in her eyes, the craftiness of her grin, the air of _I know something you don't._ "It _is_ her birthday, Ben."

"Fine. One dance."

Rey snatched his hands and yanked him with her onto the floor.

"I'm a little rusty," he said in warning, suddenly nervous. Or was the jitter in his chest anticipation?

"I don't mind, I'm not spectacular either." Her excitement froze as she seemed unsure where to place her hands.

"No, no—first I bow, then you curtsy."

Deeply, a proper bow, arms folded behind his back. She lifted the edges of her dress gracefully and dipped her head. Rising, her hand slipped easily into his, other resting on his shoulder, his across the broad of her back.

Stepping off, the ballroom faded from his peripherals. He was made keenly aware of her presence, her body heat, the crackling electric of her bare fingers laced with his. Logically he knew they were in the presence of prying eyes, on the edges of tomorrow morning's gossip, but in this short moment—this fleeting, precious, delicate moment consumed by the heat of her skin—he felt as if they were alone. Strings soaring, he twirled her, heart stopping with the sound of her laughter.

The lilac and juniper of her perfume made him briefly intoxicated, caught up in a sensory overload from her breath on his neck, the firm grip of her fingers curled around the swell of his shoulder, the captivated gleam in her eyes.

He could kiss her, right here, in front of everyone they knew.

Ben stumbled slightly, forcing himself to not react to the intrusive wiggling of what was definitely just a coincidental, unfounded—

She was beautiful and he couldn't stop the way her smile was making his heart skip, his mouth dry, his face hot. How...long had he been harboring this? _Had_ he been harboring it? Hiding this deep within himself, away from his conscious mind?

Her adjustment of their intertwined fingers nearly had him jump from his skeleton. The sharp, snapping spark of her skin against his was serrating, sensual, somatosensory. Fire sped up his arms, trickled down his shoulders, curled around his neck. Warm, inviting, familiar.

Their conversation fell from soft chatter to silence—comfortable, tender, full of unspoken thoughts. Did she still read his mind like when they were kids? Could she see the gentle flush of embarrassment on his face? Feel the hurriedness of his heart rate?

Did she know how much it was going to kill him when she took a different partner?

He did not want to leave this departure from reality, an illusion disguised as a waltz. This bubble of possibilities never to be explored. This moment that hung delicately in time, a star glittering before its supernova. Once the spell broke—once the clock struck midnight, the gourd no longer a carriage—it would dissolve peacefully the way it began. And he would let her go into the next set of waiting arms, returning to his place always two steps behind, never beside.

The song ended and he—

Didn't let go.

She didn't let go.

And the next song ended, and the next.

Finally, painfully, regretfully, he bowed for his exit and handed her off carefully like spun glass.

Like a snowflake, a wisp of a thin sugar strand.

Back in place, a statue once again, he made a point to avoid Jemmah's stare.

"I didn't think you liked dancing."

"It's all right."

She leaned back in silence, arms crossed over her chest. When she spoke, her voice was soft. "She looks beautiful out there, like a swan on a crystal pool. I can't help but feel a little…jealous sometimes."

"She gets jealous of you, too."

Jemmah chuckled. "Of course she would. Even with the world on a silver platter you can't help but wonder if someone has it better."

"I think it's in our nature, wanting what we can't have."

The party came to a slow close in the small hours of the morning. Most guests had retired long ago and he found himself half asleep on a sofa, hovering at the edges of a discussion. Jemmah, beside him, was barely awake. She had pulled up a chair after trying to say good night for the better part of an hour and was now trapped in a never-ending conversation. Rey, to his left, was talking in quick excited bursts, one of few with energy left to spare.

"I still can't believe I actually loved it," she was saying to her father. "Can we throw another party soon?"

 _"We_ cannot, but that does not mean there won't be others to attend. The cost of these things is truly extravagant, it would be unwise to hold more than a handful every season."

"Then I'd like to come with you to the next available one."

"I'll see what can be arranged."

"Is her voice getting faster or am I just ready to pass out?" Jemmah yawned. "What time is it even?"

Ben went cross-eyed at the chrono on his wrist. “Late, and you should really get to bed before one of us has to carry you."

"Fine, fine." She stood unsteadily on bare feet, fingers curled around the straps of her sandals. "Rey, sorry to interrupt but I need to sleep. It has been a truly lovely evening and I will see you again in too few hours."

The Emperor turned to his daughter. "I think it's about time we all retire, or else we'll be non-functional come the morning."

"All right. I'll take my leave too. Ben?"

He rose slowly, bowed, and followed her out the parlor. The winter palace wasn't as old as the Empire’s mainstay on Coruscant, but the building hadn’t been updated in centuries. It was mostly stone, windows overlooking natural beauty on all sides. Rey liked to run her fingers along the walls, a habit Ben had noticed when they were still kids. She did it now with a small hum and a bounce in her step.

She stopped on the stairs up to her apartments, a hand laid on a cold window. "It snowed, look."

A fresh blanket of white covered the gardens below, trees decorated with garlands of cold frost, the overcast sky a milky gray. The glass fogged where the heat of her skin leaked onto icy panes.

"We should go for a walk tomorrow morning," Rey said softly.

"It’s already morning. Jemmah will be hard to rouse."

She shook her head. "No, just us."

Oh. "I'd like that. You have my permission to wake me, but we need to get some sleep."

"Of course."

The rest of the way was quiet. He slowed his pace to match hers, content to take their time before the sun rose and shook out the night's soft secrets. She drew him to a halt at her door, lingering a few moments too long.

"Thanks for dancing with me tonight, I had fun." Her smile could melt the frozen world outside. "Maybe we could do it again sometime?"

"I would be honored when the need for a partner arises."

With a laugh, she pulled him into a quick, tight hug. "Goodnight, Ben."

"Sleep well, Princess. And," he said softly, lowly, before pressing a kiss to her cheek. "Happy birthday, Rey."

A final small smile exchanged, he departed for his rooms, willing himself not to turn around, or listen for the sound of her door clicking shut.

Ben couldn't sleep, he was too busy kicking himself.

This would surely lead to the death of his soul, his heart, and his mental health. When he closed his eyes, he was greeted by the afterimage of her smile, the expression she wore while they danced. Had it been equally as tender as his? Could she maybe…reciprocate? Unlikely. They were just friends. Even if she did, it couldn't go anywhere. She would be the empress and marry someone of closer standing and he would remain by her side, always two steps behind.

This didn't stop the dreams when sleep came uneasily in. He couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to hold her, just for one night.

Rey couldn't sleep, she was too busy pacing around her room, heart set to explode.

It wasn't special. It was just a kiss on the cheek between friends. The friendliest friendly-friend platonic pals. What would have happened if she'd turned her head a few millimeters to the side? If their lips touched? Would he kiss her still, with his hands on her waist? Her fingers in his hair?

Her heartbeat had been erratic when they danced together, body so busy screaming in bubbly excitement that she'd forgotten her steps, or where she was, who she was. A blissful few minutes pressed so close she could count the moles on his neck, catalogue the grooves in his knuckles, the speckles of warm honey in his dark eyes.

When sleep found her she was on top of the blankets, lulled by the echo of his laugh, deep and smooth like dark amber syrup.

Jemmah slept; she was terribly tired.

* * *

Here are their outfits! + a visual for Jemmah (who is, I've failed to mention, extremely tall)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rey, not extravagantly dressed: I look flashy :(  
> Jemmah, tits out, dress see-through: hold my beer
> 
> Kinda want to jokingly make a bingo card for all the unnecessary references to other media in this fic
> 
> EDIT: 1/24/21: Yeah I'm skipping this week's update to work on my RFFA gift exchange - next update will be on 1/31/21


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the week off! To make it up, this chapter is 8.4k words long. Wow!
> 
> I added a quick sketch of their attire to last chapter if you haven't seen it!
> 
> I am over the moon with all the comments! The meat and bones of the plot will start to unfurl this chapter and I'm excited to see what theories y'all come up with.

They did not get a chance to explore the snowy world in the morning. Instead, Rey was unhappily whisked away by a suitor hand-chosen by her father. Ben stayed close as she trekked begrudgingly through the snow drifts, but it wasn't the same as being alone with him. Something that, she realized, would become a scarce luxury in a matter of years, or months.

Rey felt her stomach plummet at the thought, the idea of being forced to replace her closest friend, favored confidant. Jemmah too would leave her one day without an understudy, gone to grow up and become an adult in her own life.

At least Ben would still be with her, even if they grew apart.

"You look upset," he said in a hushed tone when her date for the day had wandered off to check something in the gatehouse. "Are you not having a good time?"

"No. I'd rather be anywhere else. At least you're here with me."

"Do you want me to steer him back to the palace?"

"That's not necessary. It's not his fault; he hasn't done anything wrong."

"Let me know if you change your mind."

She didn't, but she wished she had. It was the last snowfall she saw before being ordered back to Coruscant.

Her father departed straight from the winter palace, an uprising in the Western Reaches requiring immediate intervention; he jumped at any opportunity to return to the battlefield. Luke gave Ben a set of meticulous instructions before the Emperor and he took leave, his tone stern. Rey couldn't hear the words exchanged, but knew the seriousness from the stoic mask of Luke's face.

Ben all but vanished after that, duties taking him everywhere but her side. Anakin stepped in to fill his place, letting his grandson familiarize himself with the Guard's protocols for emergencies, how to prepare, what to do. Jemmah left too, called back to Spira by her mother. Alone and on edge, Rey threw herself into work, taking her father’s place during general housekeeping meetings and becoming the point of contact for minor squabbles. Better to be too busy to think than dwell on her emotions.

Three months of stress and tension passed before Ben collapsed onto the sofa next to her one evening. Tucked away in her smaller sitting room, he was able to catch a moment's rest from the endless work that had been plaguing all of the palace staff. Ben in particular had been running around nonstop with the Guard, checking for potential security breaches and gathering intelligence on offworld affairs. He looked haggard, his hair long enough to brush his shoulders, eyelids heavy and bruised a sickly mauve from his restless sleep. He sighed heavily and brought a cup of tea to his lips.

"I've missed being near you," he said with a rough throat. "It's unbearable to be so far from friends, stuck in the company of strangers."

"Wouldn't it be all right to switch with Anakin? He must know what to do, too."

"Luke wants me to get practice in case anything were to happen while he’s off-world."

"Then I'm grateful to see you, even if it's only for a moment."

"Do you mind if I lie down? I’m exhausted beyond belief."

"Not at all. Do you want me to move?"

"It's fine. Fair warning, I may pass out."

He did, quickly, soundly. She restrained the impulse to brush stray hair from his cheek, resigned to continue her reading as if she couldn’t feel the heat from where his head lay against her thigh. As if her attention hadn’t been consumed by the way his breathing slowed, his face relaxed, his stress vanishing as he entered dreams. But she failed, predictably, in her efforts to ignore the obvious. One touch, no more. She tucked a black lock of silk-spun hair behind the shell of his ear.

Oh, was it always so soft? Did he always look so peaceful when asleep? She was deeply entrenched in this boy, had hidden her heart beside his when he wasn't looking. The thought of having to dig it out of its home between his ribs in order to present it to another made her feel uneasy. It would stay there no matter what was asked of her, or who laid beside her in her marriage bed.

She let him sleep, eventually needing to rise and rejoin the marathon of meetings that had been running nonstop since the uprising began. Laying a blanket across him, she dared to ghost her lips on his forehead, a kiss to safeguard his dreams. It would be enough for her, she hypothesized, if he could know someone loved him and much as she did.

Rey did not see Ben again for another three months.

He never left her thoughts, but that was little consolation for the absence of good friends. Especially as the ground began to slide like a carpet yanked from a slippery floor as she stood alone in front of her desk, fingers trembling as she held the holoprojector aloft unsteadily.

It shouldn’t have happened like this. Or at all. Her ears blurred out the words, brain self-censoring the news. Luke’s face looked grim and she hyperfocused on the downward curl of his lips in the pre-recorded message. Energy sapped, body unfocused, she collapsed backwards into her chair, her knees buckling under the added stress, the strain. Panic was starting to rumble awake like a slow, lumbering behemoth. Father was dead. The Emperor had been killed in combat, dying as ferociously as he lived. Better than murder, better than the rest of the Palpatine line. She wondered grimly if she too would succumb to unnatural causes when her time was up.

The external keypad on her door pinged and she, in a blaze of feral fear, called her lightsaber and leapt to her feet, tensed and volatile.

"It's me, it's me!"

Ben’s face registered gradually to her addled mind, dark circles like wine stains under his eyes, gold pauldron dull in the bleak starlight that crept dimly through her office windows. She crumpled into him instantly, blade off and discarded, manners and voice forgotten. His arms were so large around her back, the exposed skin of his neck warm against her cheek.

"I came as soon as I got news. I'm so sorry, Rey."

"How's Luke?" she asked, numb to her own tragedy.

"He's distressed but unharmed."

"They're going to come for me too, aren't they? Father's political enemies."

"I don't think the word has broken yet but, yes. I expect a usurper or two to rise and attempt to dethrone you. I intend to see to their failures personally."

"Gods." She hugged herself tighter against his frame. "We have to prepare."

"It's your call now how we should proceed."

"I don't know how to make that decision. Any decisions. I'm not _ready."_ She was barely ready to grieve let alone—

Rule an empire.

"Can I make a suggestion?"

"Of course."

"Leave that to us for now. And don't worry about it tonight. It would be good to try to get some sleep—"

 _"Master Skywalker,"_ came the crackle of his comlink. _"We're picking up unidentified signatures on the lower levels of the Palace, at least two lifeforms. Is the Empress safe?"_

Ben swore and untangled one arm. "I'm with her now, have you requested backup?"

_"Affirmative, sir."_

She felt her heart climb into her throat.

"Send a squad up to the main apartments and put everyone not working tonight on standby. I suspect this group has a line into palace affairs considering the timing. Expect them to know the surroundings well."

_"Understood."_

She felt her voice climb an octave. "This isn't happening."

"I'm going to ask Grandad to come fetch you."

"No, I want to stay with you."

He paused with his fingers over his comlink. "It would be better if—"

"I want you to guard me and I want him leading the charge." She stood her ground. "As Empress I demand it." A falter, a quaver. "Please don't leave me."

"As your Hand, I am ruled by your will." He sighed and called her saber, returning it gently to her waiting palms. "And by your side I will remain."

She took his hand as he led her to the inner sanctum, down flights of hidden stairs, around tight corners, deep in the bowels of the palace. There weren't windows in this fortified bastion, the only way out back through the passages they came. After locking the heavy mechanical doorway shut, she let herself breathe.

"This is a horrible night."

"I can't disagree," he said as he scrolled through a datapad, dispatching additional orders to the captains in the palace proper. "I've never actually seen this room before."

Essentially a panic room, it contained enough bare necessitates to survive being holed up for a week. There was a desk and a small kitchenette in the antechamber, with a bed and a fresher in the main area. She could surmise there were not enough spare pillows to build a wall this time.

"It's very…sparse."

He glanced around her to the bed. "I'm not tired if you want to get some rest."

"You looked exhausted when you came to find me."

"The adrenaline will keep me up."

"And how am I supposed to sleep after learning my father got killed and now someone is coming after me?"

“What do you suggest, Princess?”

“Empress,” she corrected, throat afire with the word. Instinctively, she swiped at a tear before it fell.

“Oh, Rey.”

There were his arms again, strong, steady, enveloping. She balled her fists into the front of his uniform’s robe, clinging to any semblance of normality, any distraction away from the wretched now. Laying her head on his chest, she could hear his heartbeat quake hurriedly against his ribs. It seemed uncharacteristic of him to be nervous or anxious in the face of danger.

He did not seem to want her to sense that and carefully untangled himself. “Do you want to sit down for a bit?”

“Actually, I think I want to shower.”

The small fresher had no luxuries save for hot water and a place to let tears run down her cheeks uninterrupted. She was never much of a crier, but there was too much grief to process at once, too much to sweep under a rug, or the bed, or forgotten in the closet to only be dusted off on a rainy day. Grief was easier to handle when shared, but she had no one to cry this out with. Neither of her best friends were close to her father and wouldn't be able to empathize the way she needed. She had barely gotten to know him and the pain of that thought was unbearable.

Perhaps this would be grief of what could have been, the anguish of not knowing. She was already intimately familiar with how that ache felt in dead, sleepless nights.

She did not feel better after a shower. Cold and wet, she returned to the main room to find Ben sitting on the bed still working. He moved to get up immediately, as if she’d sear him with her touch.

“You can stay. It’s not like there’s anywhere else to go.”

“There’s the desk.”

She sat down gracelessly and patted the space he’d vacated. “You were about to pass out; stay with me.”

“As you wish. But know you brought it upon yourself if I snore.”

“You don’t snore.” Wriggling herself under the covers, she reached for the duvet at the foot of the bed. “Ben, I will come after you if you get sick or are too tired to stay alert tomorrow. Please try to sleep _in_ the bed.”

“I can stay on top of the sheets.”

“You’ll catch cold.”

“I will not. Besides, it would be inappropriate.”

“We’re both adults. Don’t make me order you.”

“I am at a comfortable temperature.”

“You’re shivering.” She groaned when he continued to resist. “You’re acting like this is a big scandal. We’re not otherwise married, we’re not having an affair—we’re just friends.” And that line, that truth, left an acrid taste on her lips. “Get under the damn covers.”

"In my work clothes?"

She could scream. "Change! If I get any more frustrated I _will_ cry. Please do _not_ keep pushing me."

He threw his hands up with a _fine!_ and disappeared into the fresher, returning in a too-long shirt and too-short pants. He rolled up the sleeves, exposing his defined, alabaster forearms. Rey lambasted herself for gawking when he noticed her stare.

"Something wrong?"

"You are deathly pale. When was the last time you were outside?"

"With my arms bare? Couldn't tell you." He slid under the covers and stayed on the opposite side of the bed. "How are you feeling?"

"Freezing. I think I've had an adrenaline crash."

"Get some sleep. I'll wake you if anything happens."

She was out quickly, mind shutting down and body following shortly after.

* * *

Ben stirred from his dreams, a change in temperature waking him as he found her curled into him, arms around his neck, legs tucked between his. He wasn't innocent in this, having cuddled close in his sleep, bridging the vast plain of the mattress to meet her in the middle. One of his hands was numb under her ribs, the other rested on the warm skin of her back. He'd wondered months ago what it would be like to hold her and his slumbering subconscious had forced an answer to the question. And, uncomfortably, there was no returning to ambiguity or feigned indifference after learning she fit into him like a nesting doll.

He felt disgusted with himself, having breached their contract of friendship, having let himself be talked into dancing so close to the edge of his suppressed desires. She sighed in her sleep and he had to smother his urge to devour her whole. How cruel it was to be wax against a flame, cursed to melt from the heat of her brilliance. He would give his body to the cause, discontented but unwilling to upset their delicate balance.

Against his better judgment—without judgement—he brushed his lips across her forehead. To ward off nightmares, he told himself. A protective spell, nothing more.

Time was an abstract concept in such a windowless space. Ben could only attempt to guess the hour with no reference point later when he roused, having been lulled easily to sleep by the chimeric hope of her returned affection. He was on his back now, a weight pressing heavily down on his chest. The faint, lingering smell of juniper trickled over him like dew down a slender stem. His muscles contracted before he could process complex thoughts.

As he did, Rey startled awake and, as if on fire, fled to the opposite side of the bed. She remained with her back to him when he sat up, coiled tightly into as small of a space she could occupy.

He rose to retrieve his datapad, careful not to spook her further. Rey remained motionless and he prodded her after scanning his mail. "Not doing well?"

She shook her head. "What time is it?"

"Early morning, not much after five."

"And the intruders?"

"Vanished."

"What?"

"They disappeared. The few reports that are in have scant information and are jammed with more polite ways of saying _we don’t know shit_. The inquisitors are still looking into it; I don't see their report yet."

 _"Vanished,"_ she repeated. "We should go, there's no sense hiding out here any longer."

"I'd rather we wait—"

"I don't. I'm not going to be a princess locked up in a tower scared of her own shadow; I have an empire to run." She threw the covers off and stood. "Get dressed, I want to be upstairs in ten minutes."

He swallowed. Perhaps he was dry kindling instead of wax, for he was already half-charred by the ferocious look in her eyes. "All right, princess."

"Imperial highness," she corrected. "You should address me properly in company; it would be absurdly inappropriate to refer to me with such familiarity."

She was drawing away, quickly. "Rey—"

"I need you to do this for me. I can't look weak, or manipulatable. Emotions are both."

"You're neither of those things."

"I know that, but does the public? The Senate? Stop stalling, we need to leave."

Watching her shift her skin like a chameleon, he followed her up the stairs as his stomach sank deep into the depths of the palace walls.

* * *

Things were not back to normal above ground. Still reeling from the embarrassment of having crawled into Ben's arms while asleep, she was doing her best to put on a cold, detached front. Was it working? Debatable, but it made her feel a little tiny better.

She sat behind her father's desk in the gold office, the black-stained wood and gilt inlays relics of an older era. She held her head in her hands as she read the scrawled words for a fourth time. Ben, hovering too close to her elbow, stood at attention. With a sigh, she passed the note back to her High Inquisitor.

Warrick cleared his throat. "I don't want to make assumptions, but—"

"It's a threat," she finished.

"Yes. It's a threat."

"A group of hostiles broke in, made no attempt to find me, knocked out three guards, didn't cause any injuries, put a note on my desk, and left without being sighted."

He winced. "Yes."

"You had Lord Vader with you and were still unsuccessful."

"Yes."

Rey leaned back in her chair and steepled her hands in front of her mouth. "My father is killed and on the same day a band of what appear to be Separatist insurgents breaks into the Empire's stronghold in order to deliver a warning. Are you not taking this seriously, Inquisitor? Or do I need to spell out how frightening this incompetence is in plain Basic?"

"Your Highness, this is a more complex matter than breaking and entering."

"We have a mole, Warrick. It's your job to hunt moles. I would greatly appreciate it if everyone were to do their jobs today instead of lamely offering me their condolences. Sympathy is useless to me if I'm dead." She sat up and tapped her fingers on her father's desk. "You're dismissed, Inquisitor. Please leave that here and send in Lord Vader."

Warrick stood, bowed, and left without another word.

Nerves catching up to her, she turned to acknowledge Ben. "Was I too harsh?"

"I can't make those calls for you, Empress."

"But if you could, what would you say?"

"That it's not my business how you run your empire."

She swore internally. "I'm sorry."

"For what? Nothing happened."

"Ben—"

The clicking of her office door spooked her out of her sentence, as if she'd been caught in a taboo act. Anakin looked tired beyond his years as he stood before her, one hand on the back of a chair. His beard seemed more unkempt than usual, his hair grown out an inch too long. She met his verdigris eyes and felt a shiver scream down her back at their intensity.

"Do you have any additional comments on Inquisitor Warrick's report? I saw you signed off on it."

"I think it was an inside job." He crossed his arms over his chest. "And I don't believe for a second this is an independent event."

"What do you make of this?" She offered him the note with the hastily scrawled threat.

"' _On Ostor it will come to rain blood and milk, shortly before a change of Hand: great plague and war, famine and chaos will be made visible, far away where the Emperor has perished._ '" Anakin frowned when he finished. "Ostor is at the center of the Separatist crisis in the Outer Rim."

"I haven't been crowned yet and they're calling for my head."

"I hate to break it to you, but your family business is making enemies." He handed the note back. "Do you intend to pull our forces back?"

"No. I don't negotiate with terrorists. The last thing I need is the Senate to think they can walk all over me, or find out something is amiss. This note is to remain confidential."

"As it should, I agree."

"Have you seen anything like it? Did Father get cryptic messages?"

"That's a question for my son, he would know better than I."

"Noted. One last point, what happened last night?"

He sighed and leaned his hip against the chair. "I had a clear reading and then—poof, they disappeared, as if they'd cut off their connection to the Force. I only know two ways of doing that and I don't think they used lizards or the hounds would have smelled them."

"And the other way?"

"Dangerous. Cloaking a signature is one thing—still detectable but fainter, or made to look like something else. Cutting it off fully, you're risking brain damage and psychological trauma if you do it wrong."

She chewed her lip. "You think it was the second one."

"I do, and I have no way to prove it unless we catch someone."

"Shit."

"Language, young lady," Anakin said with a twitch of a smile. "I will aid the Inquisitors where fit. You're in good hands, Rey."

When the doors closed on Anakin’s black cloak, she fell back into the leather of her seat and groaned, hands over her eyes. "You're mad at me."

"I'm irritated."

"Is it because of the decisions I'm making?"

"No, it's—" Ben’s voice came out too agitated and he paused to compose himself. "It's because I'm afraid you're going to forget yourself in your hunger for power. When have you _ever_ asked me to address you with honorifics?"

"Oh." She'd only been trying to protect herself from her own embarrassed idiocy and instead sent an arrow whizzing through his flesh. He hid his hurt well, only the smallest fracture showing in the corners of his mouth.

"I'm not just some dark enforcer of your will—and I'd prefer to not be that at all. You're my best friend before you're the Empress, and I hope I'm yours before your Hand."

He was many things to her before his title. She stood, wanting to be on equal ground. "I'm sorry for that slip earlier. I didn't mean for it to come across that way—this is all so nerve-racking and I hate that I'm going through it half blind and barely prepared. Next time, step on my toes when you think I've crossed a line I shouldn't have."

"You know you can tell me when you're feeling anxious. Nothing between us has changed."

"I know." She shifted her weight, thinking. "I want to go through Father's things before I get caught up in more meetings, I have a sinking suspicion this isn't the first threat."

She led him into the Emperor's chambers, an expansive set of apartments on the upper levels of the palace. Her father had used few of them, keeping mostly to a few offices and a handful of accessory rooms. Ever stoic, the lack of decorations felt appropriate, walls bare of anything but formal texts and the occasional old painting of some long-dead ancestor. His main office was free of windows, the scenes from the city below holograms projected from exterior sensors; few chances could be taken with this many enemies.

Ben took one look at the spotless, fileless desk and groaned. "Don’t tell me there’s another hidden room.”

“Of course there is. Have you met my family? Do we look like we’re on good terms with anyone?” She removed a small key from her belt and opened a closet door, scrambling inside to find the concealed lock.

“Every room of this palace is like a fun house.”

“Are you coming or not?”

There wasn’t enough space for them both between the numerous coats and forgotten shoes. Ben’s body heat was scorching even through the layers of her ensemble. His breath tickled the back of her neck and she fumbled with the key, uncomfortably aware of her pulse drumming in her ears.

“It’s a little cramped.”

“Thank you King Obvious, always appreciate your insight.”

He laughed and her insides turned to gooey honey. “I can always wait outside.”

“It’s fine, I’ve almost—got it.” She pushed the tiny door open and crawled into the camouflaged space. In the dim light she could make out the edges of the narrow staircase that led into the depths below. Rey ignited her saber, warm orange light illuminating the cobbled stone steps.

“This seems centuries old.”

“Likely is. The palace was a temple a few hundred years ago.”

“Do you think there are traps?”

She pressed her hand to the cold slab wall. Reaching out through the Force, she found no hints of concealed weapons or arrows ready to fly at a wrong step. There was, however, an impressive bolt on the door that waited at the end of the passage. “No, but there’s a second lock and I only have the one key.”

“Let’s take a look anyway, might not need two.”

The staircase was never-ending and unearthly quiet, their footsteps and breath echoing in the claustrophobic space. She swore they started above ground, but the strata of the rock changed as they descended, from light and porous to bands of mineral-soaked blue and grays. After an unknown number of minutes, almost-falls, and stairs, they reached the bottom. Rey nearly mistook the door for the wall; it was cut into the rock face and barely tall enough to enter without ducking. There was no handle, nor a space for a key.

“Now what?” Ben asked from a few steps above.

“Turn off your saber, I have an idea. Father used to play a game with me in the dark when I was tiny and I’m starting to think it wasn’t actually a game.”

He obliged and the passage plunged into impenetrable darkness.

Small luminescent spots began to glow in patterns on the door. She could pick out the edges of movable pieces etched into the surface, stiff letters of a familiar alphabet carved on large stone dials.

"Can you read any of that?"

"Yeah. It's a language my dad made up—or, at least, I thought he did." She twisted the letters into place, spelling out an old phrase that had been branded into her subconscious for more than a decade. “They’ll only rotate if you manipulate them a certain way with the Force.”

A mechanism behind the stone clicked and the door began to open inwards.

“What does it say?”

“'He who fights monsters.'” She reignited her blade. “It’s a warning, or a reminder, depending on how you read it.”

"I am still painfully impressed by how screwed up your family mottos tend to be."

"This is the least of it.”

Oil lamps hung along the walls in place of plasma lighting, flickering gently to life, the soft glow of small fires casting shadows through the room. She couldn't see up to the ceiling even with her saber raised high over her head, the space cavernous. It was a mausoleum of family relics and imperial secrets, a labyrinth with an unknown end. Doorways and old tunnels broke off from the main chamber to dive deeper down into the bedrock. A feeling of primal unease shuddered its way down her bones, as though she were trespassing on hallowed ground. Ben beside her gave no such indication of discomfort and strayed to wander the rooms, eyes wide as he took in the sheer number of old paper files and outdated tech littering the flat surfaces and time-worn desks.

"I think I found something."

She set down a folder and joined Ben in a far corner of the second room. He lifted a dusty, mildew-stained tarp from a portrait on the floor, the frame coming up to his chest. The subject was a young woman not much older than she. Her chestnut hair was gathered into one of the styles Rey had worn since childhood, several strands falling to frame her face. A delicate, muted red smile was painted onto her lips, eyes the color of an ocean storm.

"I didn't know there were any paintings of her." Rey reached to run her fingertips over the oil. "She looks so much like me."

"There are a few others behind it."

Together, they shifted the painting to reveal the rest of the stack. On her knees, Rey rifled through the smaller portraits, hands shaking, heart pounding. There were a few of her father as well, along with one of her as a child in her mother's lap. She paused on this one, cradling it carefully.

"I always thought she died during childbirth." Her voice sounded strangled in her ears. "A complication or some other tragedy."

He moved closer, a hand resting hesitantly on her back. "Are you sure this was painted after you were born?"

"Yeah, I have that birthmark on my thigh. There's no way this was done before and I doubt Father would have commissioned it after my mother passed." She bit back a sigh. "What else is hiding down here?"

A lot, it turned out. After she spent an hour of leafing uselessly through old flimsies, watching countless holomessages, and going cross-eyed trying to read cursive Basic, Ben found something. She ducked around an awkward natural stone wall to join him in a cramped alcove, a stack of journals scattered around his bent knees.

“You seem to be my good luck charm today.” She sat down, careful not to brush against him. “What do you have?”

“I think these are your father’s based on the dates. Some of them appear to be written in code.”

“May I?”

She took the offered book and surveyed it carefully, her fingers gentle across the smooth leather. Exotic, whatever it was, dyed a rich warm brown, pages hand-bound. She undid the clasp and sucked in a breath, nervous. Anxious. Ben beside her shifted closer, his side pressed to hers, his presence a supernova.

Inside the journal was her father’s penmanship, letters neat and distinguished. She could feel the indentation from his pen under her fingertips, ink long dry. The year in the margin indicated she was still so young when this entry was written and her throat tightened as she scanned the words.

_Dearest Letitia,_

_Our darling little girl has strung her first full sentence together and it took every inch of power in my being not to weep at the occasion! It was a horrible sentence, not mindful of grammar, but I know you would have found it marvelous. How such a small thing can grow so quickly amazes me with every passing day._

She flipped pages forward, breath trapped in her lungs.

_My darling Lettie,_

_Rey has made her first friend. Perhaps not first, though I do not know if I shall count the toddlers from daycare, as playdates at that age are not self-arranged. Her little friend has a big personality, I do so hope she will help our precious girl come out of her shell. She is becoming withdrawn the more she asks after you. When the time comes I shall tell her, but she is still so small. I will wait to pass on the burden when her shoulders are strong enough to carry the weight._

_P.S. - she has started to read my thoughts, which is both promising and worrisome. I cannot help but wonder if she will also inherit my other less than desirable abilities, or circumstances._

More pages, more years flying by.

_Lettie!_

_What a terror your daughter is!_

_She has metamorphosed from a shy young thing into a disobedient banshee! I must begrudgingly admit she reminds me very much of myself at her age, a terror to all my tutors and handlers alike. She plays tricks on my guard captains whenever I so much as turn my back, snickering to herself as though I cannot hear the mischief she is making. Thankfully her Hand has more energy than I, chasing her around the grounds and trying his best to keep her from landing them both in trouble. I have high expectations for that young man._

_Soon, I believe it will be time to begin training her. She has so much to learn in such a short time, and I fear if I wait any longer that window may close. I hope she will never need my training, but I would never forgive myself if I left her unprepared for the worst._

One more entry before her emotional stamina broke.

_My love,_

_It pains me how much she looks like you now. Nearly a woman in her own right and all I can see is your spark burning so brightly in her eyes. She has your voice, the color of your hair, the inquisitiveness of your gaze. I dare not consider myself responsible for the graces you have bestowed upon her. Though she follows in my footsteps, headstrong and reckless enough to frighten me on one or more occasions. Her Hand always returns from their adventures with more stories to tell of her feats, amusement bright in his smile. Nevertheless, I look forward to the day she is crowned; the Empire deserves an ambitious young monarch. I am sure they grow tired of this old curmudgeon and his unyielding ways._

Rey closed the journal before she could ruin it with a tear stain.

Lost in a moment of long-forgotten time, she let a sob wrack her chest, any real ability to form thoughts or understand what was happening to her lost to the deluge of pain. She didn’t register sound, ears blind in this small cavern underground. Arms were around her waist before she could gather her thoughts, to voice a disagreement, to forget to raise her shields, reject comfort. Curled into his frame, knees between his, she relinquished her resistance to cry, eyes buried in the depths of her palms. His lips might have pressed to the column of her neck, or she might have imagined it to comfort herself, to stay just a second longer on the fringe of her sanity before she plummeted deep into a well of grief.

It was minutes before she found her voice again, throat sore and raw. Her hands clutched his, tight like talons, and she dreaded letting go. “I never knew her name.” She breathed in shakily. “Or that he was proud of me.”

“Your father never said anything, but I could tell when I gave him my briefings. He’d go quiet and sort of look beyond me, mind elsewhere, a hint of a smile on his face.” Ben squeezed her closer, the rumble of his voice through her ribs calming. “You have the same look of bemusement as he did. The quirk of your lips, how you incline your head.”

“He used to try to correct me when I did that as a kid, as if it weren’t proper. Now I...think it might have been because it reminded him too much of himself, and not of my mother.”

Ben was quiet as he tucked her head under his chin, another layer of protection from the outside world. “Perhaps that was a display of love, of both you and her, that he wanted so much for you as to echo her.”

“It kills me, thinking how I never got to know either of my parents as people. Where was this part of my father all my life?”

“Waiting for the right moment, but right moments never come.”

“Gods, why couldn’t he just—?” Another sob hiccuped its way from her lungs.

He sat back against the stone and pulled her flush against his chest, her ear over his heartbeat. “We don’t have to go up there until you’re ready.”

She nodded and searched out one of his hands. “Can you just hold me a little while longer? It feels...nice to be detached right now.”

“Of course.” This time she was certain she did not fabricate a kiss pressed so tenderly to her crown. She wanted to bathe in the warmth of his solace for a gentle eternity. “I found a number of holos when uncovering the journals. When you feel up to it, I’ll gladly watch them with you.”

She could kiss his cheek for the offer and, perhaps, in some other timeline she did. “I’d like that, greatly.”

It was deep into the night when she found herself seated at her desk going cross-eyed trying to read. With great effort, Ben had convinced her to leave the majority of her father’s journals deep in the hidden room, sealed away from any prying eyes. He had gone to bed hours earlier, leaving her with auxiliary guards waiting to escort her to a restless, dreamless sleep when she finally departed and left the ghosts to lie ‘til morning. How was she supposed to rest on a night like this? Her pain yesterday had been palpable, but today? Today it was a lightning storm, unavoidable, unignorable.

There was a rap on the old wood door and she startled a foot in the air, nerves fried from hours of tears. Schooling her voice into an appropriate tone and primping her hair to look _slightly_ less disheveled, she called for the guest to come in.

Anakin entered slowly, as if trying not to spook an anxious animal. He hovered at the door, eyes as tired as hers. “I wanted to let you know, personally, that I’m here if you need anything. Figured earlier wasn’t a good time to drop by.”

“I appreciate it.” She wiped an eyelash from her cheek. “I’m not sure what I need.”

“You’ll know when you do. Grief is funny like that.”

Nodding, Rey set her datapad aside. “You knew my father, right?”

“Like a brother, though we weren’t as close in our later years.”

“What was he like?”

He crossed the floor and sat across from her in a plush armchair. “When he was younger? Bold, shrewd, often lost in thought. Once he made up his mind, he never wavered. A once in a lifetime kind of person.”

“I never really knew him. Who he was, at least. We didn’t talk, or really bond until I got older and even then it wasn’t much.”

“He changed a lot when your mother died.” Anakin sat back slowly. “I’d have never considered Rhys easily approachable, but he shut down entirely after she passed. What’s the frown for?”

“It’s weird hearing Dad’s name out loud. He was always _Father_ or _The Emperor_. Never his name.”

“He was never Rhys as the prince either. Your grandfather made sure all the attention was directed at himself and your father became a shadow on the wall. Which helped in the end. He was a good man and staying out of the spotlight kept him that way.” He bowed his head in thought. "I owe your father my life. I was on the brink of losing everything important and he changed my trajectory with one difficult decision. It'll make more sense if I show you. You’re gifted with telepathy, correct?"

She froze, feeling bile rise up her throat at the memory of Theed, the ghosts of the sounds echoing in her ears—"I haven't done it in a while. There was an incident."

"It's just us in the room. I'll guide you, okay?"

Hesitant and uncomfortable, she wasn't sure why she nodded. "Okay."

It always felt like hyperventilating, diving into a memory.

* * *

Anakin shivered, the walls of the cave barely keeping the chill off his back. He pulled his hood tighter, retying it under his chin as he made a mental sweep of the surroundings for sentients. "I'm still not sensing anything out here."

"That's because there isn't anything." The prince, baby faced and barely twenty-four, lowered his binoculars. "I wanted to be sure we weren't followed. Turn off your comlink."

"Why?"

"Just do it." He watched Anakin's hands intently. "Good. The reason I led us across this gelid wasteland and away from the company was to inform you I intend to commit patricide when we return to Coruscant."

He blinked, dumbfounded. "I can't—"

"Let me do that?" The smirk in his voice was audible, his mouth hidden by his cowl. "Your duty as Hand, above all else, is to the Empire and its people. My father is no longer fit to rule, too consumed by his lust for power to take into consideration the people's needs. It would be an oversight not to depose him before we miss our chance."

Anakin sat heavily back against the cold stone wall. "You've thought this out."

"I've planned it meticulously for months, and I'm going to need your help."

"It goes against my principles, Rhys. I can't let you do it."

"Do you think yourself immune to my father's darkness?" He narrowed his eyes. "I've watched you change these past few years. Your wife recently threatened you with divorce, hasn't she?"

Anger surged. "How did you—"

The prince tapped his head. "You can't hide your secrets. I'll know if you're with me or against me. And Anakin, understand that though I consider you my brother, I will not hesitate to cut you down if you decide to stand in my way. We are on the edge of a dangerous precipice and I would rather perish by your blade than see this empire burn to rubble."

He remained silent for a handful of minutes, refusing to meet the prince's piercing gaze. "I have questions I want answered before making a decision."

"As you should."

"Why does it need to be now?"

"I've discovered my own assassination plot. On top of that, it appears my father had clones of himself made, I believe as a safeguard against mortality. He's realized I am not the puppet he attempted to groom me into and has shifted to a backup plan."

"Your assassination would be soon, I take it."

"Within weeks."

"And what makes you think he's gone off the deep end?"

"Can you tell me one good reason we're on this ice ball freezing to death? Or why we've involved ourselves in this conflict to begin with? There's nothing in this system but single-biome hellholes and hostiles. No resources, no issues with trade routes, nothing. We're here because it's a show of power to phagocytose another monarchy. Wasting manpower, supplies, ships, all for sport. Do you really want to serve an Emperor like this, one who sacrifices lives for clout? Is this the sort of world you want your children growing up in?"

Anakin looked away.

"I'll take that as a no, which is the correct response. No sane man would consider this ideal."

"Hypothetically, if I agree to help, how do you expect to do this?"

"It's involved." He stood from his crouch and stretched. "We should make a fire at least; we'll be here a while."

Involved was an understatement. It took hours to finish the briefing and Anakin spent much of the return trip mulling over different avenues of attack. He weighed options. Sidious was crafty and thorough but prone to theatrics in a way his son was not. Rhys was scrupulous to a fault. Cold, calculating, and methodical, always ten steps ahead.

Even for all the detachment he projected, even with all the preparation completed, the prince faltered at the last moment. Standing over his semi-conscious father, blade poised to strike, he froze. Anakin felt the energy being used to hold Sidious back double, the son now on his knees in front of the throne.

"I can't do it." A sheen of sweat coated his face. "You have to."

There wasn't time to think.

Anakin felt the resistance of flesh against his lightsaber as he brought it down, a swift and clean cut. Panting, suddenly aware of his own stress, his knees buckled and he collapsed beside the prince, both unable or unwilling to speak. 

After long, crackling minutes of silence, Rhys picked himself up onto unsteady feet. "The world will change once we leave this room. Is there anything we need to do before reality catches up to us?"

"Get our story straight for one. What happens next?"

"Either the advisors buy it or they don't. I ascend. You remain as Hand. Suns rise and fall on another day around the galaxy. Death is not so fearsome as to stop the cosmic cogs from powering their well-oiled machine."

Anakin stood, body lighter, as if a murky miasma had lifted from his shoulders. "Will you call me Vader too?"

"I'll call you whatever you like.” Rhys stripped his gloves, shaking hands betraying the placid planes of his face. “That is your decision."

"What I should ask is, do you intend to have me clean up unsavory messes?"

"If the need arises, though I do not wish to make a habit of it"

Clipping his lightsaber to his belt, Anakin frowned. "That's a weak answer."

"It's hard to have a better one when we don't know what lies beyond these doors." He stepped around his father's head without glancing down. "Let's find out, shall we?"

No one questioned their story of an assassination; Anakin wasn't sure anyone believed them, or cared about the veracity of the tall tale. Sidious’ Grand Vizir merely rolled his eyes and ushered them both along into his offices. Mind drifting, testing newfound waters, Anakin barely listened to the conversation, only catching scraps. _It’s a pity,_ one of them said, _couldn’t have been helped. Thank the gods it happened when it did._

He stood guard as Rhys was pulled into hours of meetings, whispers and hushed voices discussing the next steps, ideas for broaching the topic to the news media, what to say, how to act. Once decided, the conversations shifted to the conflict in the frostbitten Opoku system, several generals and advisors arguing over the most appropriate response. The prince shut it down immediately, ordering a full return of forces. His tone made it clear he was not to be questioned, or disobeyed.

The late Emperor was not mourned. The funeral was a state affair, over quickly and void of sorrow. In other parts of the galaxy celebrations were broadcast over the HoloNet and, though Coruscant did not permit the same cheer for the sake of appearances, the sentiment was unanimous.

It was much later that night when they were finally relieved of housekeeping and damage control. Rhys, standing over a war table, steepled his hands and sighed. “I want you to know that what I said on Tunyok is still true: I do not think myself immune from law and order. As Hand, it is your duty to protect the interests of the Empire and remove me if I waver in my judgement.”

He shook his head. “I don’t think I’d be capable of killing you.”

“You wouldn’t have to do it personally.” He rubbed his eyes, exhaustion leaking from his pores, the Force around him heavy, weighted. “On another note, I do not want you serving as Hand for longer than necessary.”

“Do you think I'm not competent enough to continue?”

“I _think_ you’re suffering the ramifications of what my father did to your head. And knowing him, this will be a lasting onslaught. You’re still hearing his voice even in death, aren’t you?”

He looked away. “Yes.”

“I’ve seen your fits as well, brief but potent. It’s not that I want you to step down, but I need you to put your health first.”

“This position is important to me.” He took a step closer, trying in vain to keep the emotion from his voice. “It’s where I feel most at home.”

Rhys avoided acknowledging the sorrowful crack, for his sake. “I won’t ask you to remove yourself from duties entirely, but I do not think it wise to continue with the same level of involvement. Keeping with tradition, one of your children will be made Hand in your stead, the other I will bequeath the Alderaanian sector, as I have no issue of my own.” The Emperor sat back in his chair, smile melancholic. “It’s the least I can do, my friend.”

That felt...bizarre, the idea that one of his children would go on to rule a sector. How many years had it been since he toiled in the heat of Tatooine's suns? And yet, the Emperor of the Galactic Systems was offering his flesh and blood a royal title, and lands to accompany. He sighed and leaned against the table. “They’re still kids, Rhys.”

“When they’re older, of course. A childhood of obligations is a childhood stolen.”

* * *

Back in the present, Rey felt her head swimming as reality fell into place around her. The energy it took to essentially walk through someone’s mind was enormous, leaving her drained and groggy, eyes barely open. She’d never done this to such a degree and had greatly overestimated her remaining reservoirs. Anakin had fared better but appeared more exhausted than before, the circles under his eyes thicker, more bruised.

“I wasn’t aware the job of a Hand was like...that,” was all she managed, cradling her cheek with her palm, struggling to keep her eyes open.

“The Hand is the sworn protector of the Empire, and that doesn’t necessarily mean the protector of _you._ ”

“So if I go off the rails one of you will do us all a favor and cut my head off?”

“Or send you to live the rest of your days on some tropical world far away from everyone else,” he said with a chuckle. “Don’t tell me that’s the only thing you took away from those memories.”

“It wasn’t; I appreciate you showing me who Dad was, even if it was just scraps. I’m just—” she yawned, cutting herself off. She’d have to finish that idea later. “I think I need to retire.”

He stood and escorted her from her offices. “I agree. The funeral planning will begin tomorrow. I suggest you sleep in as much as you can, it’ll be draining.”

“I don’t think I’ll be rousable before noon.” A thought struck her. “What happened to my grandfather’s clones?”

“We dismantled everything. Tech, remaining cults, clones—your father and I spent ten years and used up countless resources to be sure the galaxy was permanently rid of Sidious. I check the regular channels frequently for murmurs and rumblings, but it’s been silent for over a decade.”

“And you can swear to me it’s done?”

“I can, and will.” Her door arrived sooner than expected. In parting, he gave her a nod. “Get some rest, your highness. This is the last night you have before the whole galaxy flips upside down.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Backstory! More info on her dad! Details are going to start to get very, very important as we're now moving towards the Big Conflict - you thought it was going to be the forbidden love story, didn't you? (still a huge factor but there's a lot else going on!)
> 
> Oh world-building thing that likely won't come up in the text - Ben's surname is Solo but as Hand, being the Skywalker heir, he uses his mother's surname. The hierarchy for Hands atm goes Master (Ben) < Lord (Luke) < General (Anakin) - though Anakin uses this and Vader interchangeably depending on how much he has to scare someone.
> 
> I hate to do this twice in a row, but I might need to skip next Sunday's update too; my beta and I are furiously chipping away at our RFFA fics and I don't want to post an update if the editing job is rushed. I'll edit the notes next Sunday if I need another 1-week hiatus


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